A Glee Horror Story: The Beginning of the End
by tatelangdonismine
Summary: The Schuester-Corcoran family move to Los Angeles to start their lives over again. But will the house they move into provide a fresh beginning for them, or will their future turn out to be their greatest downfall? American Horror Story crossover.
1. You're going to die in there

**A/N: Hey guys! So this is my first story, and just a little something I've been working on for a few days that wouldn't leave me alone. It's mainly American Horror Story, substituted with Glee characters. I already have the next few chapters ready to go, that is, in case you guys want me to continue with the story :) Just let me know what you think about the idea, and hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own AHS, nor do I own Glee. They both belong to Ryan Murphy.

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><p><strong>1978<strong>

Gloom. It was the only word used to describe the rather depressing day in Los Angeles, as well as one of the houses in the well-known, Beverly Hills neighborhood. Patches of greenery covered some parts of trees on the property; others had nothing on their branches, as the light shone through to land on the ground. Vines wrapped themselves around areas like the gates leading up to the front door, all the way to the top of the house. They even worked their way inside through some of the windows, where a few had been boarded up with large pieces of wood. Shrubs and other large plant life had grown everywhere on the yard; it hadn't been cut for years.

A small, young girl stood on the front lawn, outside of the house, looking upward at the property. She wore a white and yellow, polka-dotted dress, while sporting her blonde and curly hair with a plastic headband. Nearby where she was standing, were a collection of animal bones, mainly of a rabbit, dangling from one of the branches. She continued to stare at the dilapidated house for another few moments, thanks to her glasses, when a small rock thrown straight into one of the windows broke her focus, startling her back into reality. Turning to see who had broken the window, two boys a few years older than her, wearing identical clothing, began to walk up the pathway towards the front door. Both of them were tall for their height and were carrying baseball bats in their hand.

"Hey, Matt," one of the boys, wearing a green and navy-striped polo shirt, tucked into his jeans, carrying bang snaps with him, said, "You're a dork."

"Shut up. Hey, freak," Matt sneered, wearing the exact same outfit as his friend, only with a red and navy-striped shirt. The other boy, Mike, decided to taunt the girl by making kissing noises at her.

Watching the two walk up towards the entrance, she lowered her head and gave a solemn warning, "Excuse me, you are going to _die_ in there."

Matt and Mike both became somewhat startled by what she said. Matt, trying not to show fear, yet wasn't doing so well at it, spoke up, "Shut your mouth, or we're going to kick your ass!"

The girl ignored his threat, and lowered her head even more than the first time. "We got bats," Mike warned her, more confidently than his brother. "I hate trees," Matt said, avoiding the fear that was still traveling through his body, by swinging his bat at one of the branches near the door.

Before making their way in, however, the little girl gave one last piece advice to them, while smiling wickedly, "You're gonna regret it. You're gonna regret it. You're gonna regret it."

When Matt and Mike came inside the house, they both looked around for any signs of danger, trying to figure out why the little girl had warned them in the first place. So far, from what they had seen, there wasn't anything that scared them. The hardwood floor was covered in dust and belongings of the previous owners of the house, some of the wires had been hanging out of the walls and the ceilings, and just about everything in the house had some amount of cobweb stuck on it. Looking up at the stairs, more cobwebs were seen, and the walls had lost much of their paint on them.

A minute of standing there went by, and the boys saw no reason to wait any longer. Matt started their fun by swinging his bat on one of the lights, causing it to break and shatter on the floor. Mike soon followed by breaking another light in the hallway, and then proceeding into one of the rooms. The boys wanted to break every item that they could see. They broke more lights and windows, small items on a few of the shelves, and swung the bat through a television set. Mike decided to go upstairs, where he kicked the wooden pillars of the railing down to the floor, and then try to find anything else that was breakable.

When he came back downstairs, afterwards, he looked over the railing to find a freshly, injured animal on the cemented floor, with a pool of blood right next to it. "Matt," he called his best friend over to look at the creature, who came up a couple seconds later to see it. The two looked at the dying animal, taking whatever number of breaths it had left in it. "Awesome," Matt said, while kneeling down, intrigued by the sight.

Out of nowhere, the door to the basement creaked open, making the boys look over at the opening. Not wanting to go first, Matt motioned Mike, by shoving his arm, "Go."

"_You go_, shithead," Mike protested, shoving back. Matt rolled his eyes and went first downstairs. Carrying flashlights with them, the guys turned on the lights so they could see through the darkness. The first things they saw were more of the owners' items covered in cobwebs and dust. Nothing like that had interested them, until Matt shined the light towards some kind of laboratory, "Check it out." The room contained many jars with deceased animals inside, including a few parts of a human infant, like a foot, an ear, and a head, and tools that were dusty with dry blood still on them. While Mike was tapping on the glass jars to see if anything was still alive, Matt picked up the jar with the ear and put the light through the glass. When Mike came back to see his friend, Matt scared him by throwing the glass jar on the floor. Mike jumped for a second, and then sighed in relief.

"It stinks in here," Matt complained.

"It stinks like shit," Mike said, both boys unaware of something that was wandering through the basement, stalking them.

"Hey, remember that summer when we got the raccoon stuck in my chimney? That's what it smells like. Let's go find it."

"No, it smells bad. I'm getting out of here," Mike said, leaving his friend to keep looking down in the basement. As the Asian boy went back upstairs to the main floor, he listened to his friend throw his bang snaps on the floor- until they suddenly stopped.

Mike turned around from halfway up, nervously wondering where Matt was, "Matt?" He stayed on the same step, hearing nothing but glass shaking together. He spoke louder into the darkness, "Matt? Who's down there?" Not wanting to leave him alone, Mike slowly went back downstairs for Matt, hoping this wasn't some sort of prank, "Cut it out, Matt, cut it out."

At last, Mike finally discovered Matt, only to find him bloody and badly injured. Mike gasped and his eyes widened in horror, as he looked at his friend; Matt's face was covered in his own blood, and his throat was slit open, blood beginning to go down his shirt. He was struggling to breathe, and was begging for Mike to help him. When his eyes went in another direction, Mike followed where they had gone, and used his flashlight to find out what Matt was looking in fear at. He suddenly spotted a small figure standing a few feet away from him, Matt's blood on its face and garments. When the light was flashing at the mysterious creature, it began running towards Mike, who could only stand and scream, as it soon killed him, the same way it did with Matt.

Meanwhile, back outside on the front lawn, the same little girl continued to stand where she had been before, as she knew that the boys had both been killed inside the house. She knew what would happen when they had gone in the house; if they went inside, they were going to die, just like everyone else who had before them.


	2. You're gonna regret it

**Today**

"So, are your periods regular again?"

"Every other month," a woman in her early thirties told her doctor. She was sitting on the hospital chair, wearing the facilities' clothing, with chestnut-colored hair just a little bit past her shoulders, "Not that I'm really complaining, after all that blood. Will hates blood."

"Are you having any issues with arousal?" Dr. Day asked the woman.

"Not when I'm by myself," she said, chuckling.

He then motioned her to lie back, in which she put her feet on the stools so he could take a look inside her cervix, "Well, I've recently had some success with women your age, using bio-identical treatments, and hormones."

"For what?"

"Well, it's sort of a preemptive strike," the bald man explained, "See, your body is like a house; you can fix the tiles, and the bathroom, and the kitchen, but if the foundation is decaying, well, you're just wasting your time."

"What are the side effects?"

"You can sit up now," he motioned her again, "Now then, the HRT's are great for your skin, your organs; most of the women I give these to tell me they make them feel ten years younger."

"I don't know, I mean, I don't even let my family drink out of plastic bottles," the brunette shook her head, "Taking a bunch of hormones, when I don't even know what the side effects are, I just-"

"Feel and look ten years younger," the doctor argued.

"I don't need hormones, Doctor. I'm just trying to get control of my body again, after what happened," she assured her doctor.

"Can I prescribe you something to help you get that back?"

"I'm not a house."

"Shelby," Dr. Day handed her a prescription, "What are you so afraid of?" Shelby decided to take the prescription, anyway, and go back to her house. After buying three bags worth of groceries from the supermarket, Shelby took off her winter hat and coat and then took out the prescription she purchased afterwards.

She had just put the bag down, when a noise from upstairs broke through the silence, making her turn around to see where it might have come from. Another squeak was heard again, making the woman think a stranger had broken into the house. Shelby rummaged through her purse until she found what she was looking for. She found her cell phone and dialed for help.

"_911 what's your emergency?_"

"I think I have an intruder in my house!" Shelby whispered anxiously, hoping help would be on the way as soon as possible.

"_Are you sure it's not a member of your family?_"

"No, nobody's home."

"_And what's the address?_"

"35 Adrenaline Road."

"_Okay, we're sending a patrol car right now._"

"Please hurry, please!" Shelby hung up the phone, and backed away toward the kitchen counter. Looking for some kind of weapon, her eyes found the knife holder an arm's reach away. Her right hand reached for the first handle she could see, and quickly grabbed a butcher knife for protection.

Carrying the knife in a death grip, Shelby slowly walked up the stairs to find the source of noise. Reaching the top of the upper hallway, she turned her head to the left, where the noises continued to grow in size. She paced her steps to her bedroom door and stopped a foot away. Reaching out with her left hand, she carefully opened it up, the knife still in her right.

When she opened up the door, she took one look at the last thing she had ever wanted to see. She had already suffered a miscarriage of her second child; she didn't need another tragedy like this happening to her. Her husband, Will, saw her in the opening, as she began to lower her hand with the knife in it down to the floor, "Oh, my God. No, Shelby, no. No! No!" But it was too late. Shelby had caught him in the act, infidelities in full swing, as she began to walk back the way she had started.

"Shelbs, I'm sorry! No!" Will cried out, running towards Shelby, in only his briefs. With each plea that he made, the more disgusted and repulsed his wife thought of him, shaking her head back and forth every time. When he attempted to try to get her to listen to him, by grabbing a hold of her arm, it was the final straw for her. Shelby turned around, only to use the knife in self-defense by cutting open his arm, and then dropping it in shock at what she had just done. Will on the other hand cried out in pain, and began to breathe heavily by the amount of blood that started to seep out of his arm.

In the midst of Will's pain, the very words of the little, blonde girl from 1978 began to chant out loud, "_You're gonna regret it. You're gonna regret it. You're gonna regret it. You're gonna regret it_."


	3. They didn't die in here, did they?

**Present Day**

"_Los Angeles: City Limit._" It was the sign that that Will's family, Shelby Corcoran, his wife, and Rachel, his only child, and Pavarotti, their dog, in the backseats, passed by on their way through the city, in their Volvo. Will decided that moving him and his family to Los Angeles from Lima, Ohio, to start fresh again with their lives was the best and only option possible. They wouldn't have to worry about any more problems with themselves, their last home, or anyone else around them. They could focus on beginning a new life at a house that Will had seen online that he wanted to check out with his family.

"The light is different out here," Shelby stated, seeing through her sunglasses, "It's softer."

"It's called _smog_."

"Hey, you should be excited, Rach" Will spoke to his daughter, Shelby turning around to smile at her, "You can stop taking cigarettes, and start taking deep breaths."

Rachel rolled her eyes, and took off her sunglasses, "I need to go to the bathroom."

"We're almost there," Will protested.

"I need to go."

"Rachel, it's a freeway; really, where do you want me to pull over? Maybe the Honda next to us has a bathroom, or something."

The younger brunette scoffed, "I bet if Rotti had to shit, you'd find something."

"Really?" Shelby complained at her daughter's use of language, Will groaning next to her, taking off her sunglasses to look at the city map, "Rachel, I hate that word, unless I'm the only one saying it."

"You know," Will spoke up, "I'm really glad we named you Rachel, instead of our second choice."

"Which was?"

"Babs," Shelby provided the answer for Will, her husband chuckling and Rachel fake laughing in her seat.

Will backed up his wife, and raised his hand in her defense, "It's funny. Come on, you gotta admit, it's funny." He reached towards Shelby's hand to hold on the way to the house. She pulled away, still reeling from the fact that Will cheated on her, and brought her hand back to holding the map, instead. Will, on the other hand, looked out his window, and hoped that maybe his wife would move on from what happened.

The Schuester-Corcoran family finally arrived at the gorgeous, Victorian-style mansion. It definitely had been fixed and cleaned up, since a few decades ago. Will and Shelby looked around the front lawn of the house, and on the front door step, admiring the house. Will rang the doorbell, "I love it! Don't you love it, hun?" He wrapped an arm around Shelby's shoulder, as she held Pavarotti, "I mean it looks even better than it did online."

"Yeah, it's, it's interesting," Shelby said, sounding a bit uninterested.

Rachel, still moping at the fact that she had to leave all her friends in Lima, looked up at the house. "Great," the girl mumbled, "We're the Adaams family now." Since finding out about her dad's cheating, and her mom's lamenting on her miscarriage, she became more stubborn and dressed in a more vintage-style, rather than wearing her old attire of argyle sweaters and knee-high socks with Mary Jane shoes

Will overheard his daughter speaking, "Hey! Crabby Pants, get your butt over here!"

"What are you doing?" Shelby inquired.

"Isn't this place amazing?" Will asked his daughter, who hadn't like the house already.

The door soon opened up to reveal the realtor at the entrance. He was wearing a dress suit, with a horribly patterned tie of different colors which didn't match. If her friend, Joe, was with her, he would have nearly puked at the fashion atrocities this man had committed. He was bald, and appeared to be of Indian ascent, "Welcome! My name is Atul Figgins, as I've already said from our conversation on the phone."

"It's a classic L.A. Victorian, built around 1920 by _the_ doctor to the stars at the time. It's just fabulous. These are real Tiffany fixtures. As you can see, the previous owners loved this place like a child; they restored everything."

"Gay?" Shelby asked the older man.

"What do you think?" He said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

As Shelby and the realtor went into the kitchen, Will gestured to Rachel, causing her to roll her eyes, "_Tiffany. Wow."_

"Do you cook?"

"Shelby is a great cook!" Will said, while Shelby put Pavarotti down to let him wander around his possible new home, "I got her cooking lessons a few years ago, and she ended up teaching the teacher a few things."

"Cooking lessons. How romantic. Aren't you a psychologist?"

"Psychiatrist," Will corrected him, "You said something on the phone about a study I could use for my office? I'm planning on seeing patients from the house so I can spend more time with my family."

"How refreshing," Figgins replied, just as Pavarotti started barking from down the hall.

"Rachel, would you go see where Pavarotti went?" Rachel rolled her eyes at her mother's simple request, "Thank you."

"What are you yapping at?" Right at the basement door, where she found her dog, Rachel wondered what was downstairs. After a few tries of getting the jammed door fixed, it finally opened. She casually walked down the stairs to see if there was anything worthwhile lying around, and stopped at the floor. She looked around her surroundings, more so in one direction, where she thought she saw something move nearby. She shook her head, and went back upstairs to meet up with her family.

"I thought I saw some pictures of this room online; maybe you could use it as your room to sing in," Will motioned Shelby, who smiled at the thought.

"Are you a musician?" Figgins curiously asked the older brunette.

"I was."

"She can sing from high soprano to low alto, even as a high tenor sometimes."

"Why did you quit?"

While Will knew the answer to Figgins's question, because of the miscarriage and his infidelities, Shelby moved onto another subject, "This wallpaper is peeling over here." The mother peeled back the corner of the paper a little bit to reveal some sort of artwork behind, "Looks like there's some kind of mural back here."

At this, Figgins nervously piped up, "The last owners probably covered it up; they were modernists. Speaking of the last owners, full disclosure requires that I tell you about what happened to them."

Intrigued, Shelby turned and walked back toward Figgins, joking around, "Oh God, they didn't die in here, or anything, did they?"

"Yes, actually," Figgins being serious, "Both of them. It was a murder-suicide. They were just the sweetest couple. You never know, I guess." Will and Shelby's eyes widened at the first statement, just when Rachel met up with everyone else, carrying Pavarotti.

"Guess that's why the house is half the price of every other house in the neighborhood," Will thought.

"I do have a very nice, Mid-Century ranch, but it's in the valley, and you're going to get a third of the house for twice the price," Figgins tried negotiating.

"Where'd it happen?" Rachel asked from near the window, wondering about the deaths of the previous couple.

"The basement," Figgins deadpanned.

Rachel nodded her head, and then thought for a second, "We'll take it," causing both Will and Shelby to look at her like she had grown another two heads, as she continued to nod and smile. When everyone else was in agreement, the movers that had followed the family to the house unloaded everything from the truck. Figgins, meanwhile, put up the 'Sold' sign right above the house marker, indicating that a family had finally bought the home. He sighed and could only hope that they wouldn't want to sell the house, so that he would have to start back all over again with his efforts.


	4. Shelby Meets Becky and Sue

**Today (Cont'd)**

_Later in the evening_

"Come on, baby, let's go to bed," Will walked into his and Shelby's master bedroom, tired from the long day he had. Him and his family were just about settled into their new house in LA, and only had a few more decorations to hang on the walls. Shelby wanted to put up a couple paintings in their room, but Will wanted to go to sleep, "Leave that for the morning."

"I'm a little bit worried about Rachel, you know? These kids here are _very_ different. I don't know if she can handle another year of not fitting in."

"You mean you can't?" Will, playing with his watch, turned his head to ask his wife, who smiled at his curiosity.

"I can't believe this place doesn't freak you out a little bit; after what happened here?"

"This place is worth _four times_ what we paid for, and causes my train of thought to ignore the fact of what happened here, so," the curly-haired man raised his hands in exhaustion, "Let's not think about it."

Shelby smirked, "This is your professional advice, _doctor_? Just denial?"

Will put some lotion on his hands and sat up on the edge of the bed, sitting right in front of his wife, "Moving here, buying this house was the exact, right thing to do for us, and our family. It's a good thing." He gently took Shelby's arms with his hands and began to rub them up and down, "And we deserve some good after everything we've been through."

When his fingers got to Shelby's ring finger on her left hand, she pulled away from him, and began to walk toward the bedroom door, "I-I've got some stuff I want to…unpack down in the kitchen. I appreciate that you're trying. I'm trying too," She stopped at the entrance and put her hand on the door frame, "It's just gonna take some time," Will nodded his head and sighed in understanding, and watched her go downstairs.

_The next morning_

On the first day of school back in Lima, Ohio, at William McKinley High School, Rachel would've been up at six in the morning sharp, just like she had always done before. She also would have been the first person- moreso student –to arrive in the school hallways; probably receiving a slushy facial soon afterwards, before first period. Being here in California, however, made her relax and not worry about what others thought about her a lot more, but made her start a smoking habit, seeing as how it was a popular trend out in the state, and pretty much everywhere else in the country.

Walking outside in the quad, Rachel was smoking a cigarette like there was no problem at all. The short brunette looked over at three girls, who were sitting on a bench, next to where Rachel was casually strolling along, as she was taking a hit, which they didn't seem to be a big fan of.

The leader of the group, The Mack, appeared to be an inch or two taller than the other girls, and had dark-brown, wavy hair. She was wearing a dark-grey, mid-rift tank top, underneath an open, thin vest, and a cross necklace. Black, ripped denim jeans and boots went from the hips down. The other two, bigger than the first girl, were wearing thin plaid jackets of different colors and trucker hats, with black leggings and black boots.

"There were none for like, two days," the tallest girl said to her friend on the right, looking at Rachel walk along smoking her cig, and became annoyed at the action, "Hey!"

The smoker looked at who caught her attention, "Student Council passed a rule against smoking in public spaces!"

"Secondhand smoke kills," Ronnie, one of the shorter girls, said.

"I'm new here; I didn't know," Rachel dropped her cig on the ground and used her shoe to burn it out.

"What the hell is wrong with you?", The Mack immediately became pissed off and berated her for putting it on school grounds, Rachel taken back by her attitude problem, "People sit here; they eat here!"

"Um, excuse me, but you don't know me," Rachel confronted the bully, "Why are you doing this?"

"Mack's grandmother _died_ of lung cancer," Sheila, the other girl, replied, "She takes this stuff pretty seriously."

"Eat it," Mack threatened the younger girl, who protested, "_Eat it_, or I'm gonna kick the shit out of you."

"Come on, Mack," Ronnie asked, "That's enough, let's go."

"No! No, no, I want to see her eat it," Mack grabbed the back of Rachel's neck and tried to pull her in closer, to burn her with the cigarette. Rachel continued to resist her, while Ronnie and Sheila told her it wasn't worth it.

"Seriously, Mack, she's like twelve!" Sheila yelled.

With no other way to defend herself, Rachel did something she never thought she would have ever done in her entire life to anyone, let alone another girl. She spit directly on Mack's face, causing the taller brunette to step back in disgust and bring her hand up to where she was hit at. She screamed at Rachel, who was running away from her new enemies, smirking at them, while Ronnie and Sheila held her back from going any further, "You are dead! You are DEAD!"

_Back at the house_

Shelby was constantly at work at the house; ever since she saw the mural from behind the previous owners' wallpaper, she was intrigued at finding out what the artwork looked like. She had her hair up in a ponytail and was wearing a casual, plum long-sleeved t-shirt, and was chipping away the wallpaper one bit at a time. When she tore off one of the last pieces of one mural, she took a couple steps back, satisfied with what she had completed so far.

A voice soon rang out in the room, "_You're going to die in here_," making Shelby shriek and jump back looking to find out who it was. A young woman with down-syndrome and short, blonde hair, a few years younger than her, was standing near the room's entrance. She was wearing a light blue, floral dress, with a yellow, lightweight, opened-buttoned, shirt, and a red headband with plastic flowers on it.

"Who are you?" Shelby asked the woman, "What are you doing? What are you doing here?"

"Rebecca?" another voice rang out, echoed through the halls, "Rebecca?" When the second woman walked through the opening, she was wearing a black and gold-striped track suit; matching jacket and pants, and sported golden-blonde hair, which was short and slightly curly. When she found Rebecca, she walked up to her, "Rebecca, I put The Looney Tunes on the TV, so you would sit and watch-"

"But it was The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, and I don't like that show; it's for babies!" Rebecca argued against the older woman, probably her mother.

"Oh, it's round, cartoon characters; you can't tell the difference-"

"_Excuse me,_" Shelby spoke to both women, grabbing their attention from the confusion that had rung about in the room.

"Hi," the older blonde spoke.

"_Hi_…can I ask who you are?"

"I'm Sue, your neighbor from next door, and this is my girl, Rebecca," Shelby nodded her head at Sue, still trying to understand what the woman and her daughter were doing in her house, "Go. Home. Becky. Now." Sue watched as Becky went back to their house, and turned to face Shelby again, shaking her head, "That girl is a monster. I love her, and I'm a good Christian, but Jesus H. Christ; you know, if they invented some of those tests a few years ago I would've-"

"How did she get into my house?" Shelby interrupted Sue's rambling.

"You left your backdoor open," Sue grinned, hiding a lie behind her smile, "Although, I have to tell you, Becky will always find a way in. She has a _butt_ up her ass about this house; always has."

Shelby watched as Sue was fascinated over her China teacups, "You have the loveliest things."

"Thank you?" Shelby said, still acting defensive.

"Did you get a dog?"

The brunette was caught off guard by the question, "We have a dog, yes."

"I run a little kennel out of my house; a doggy daycare kind of thing."

"How nice."

"Although, I prefer purebreds; I adore the _beauty_ of a long line, but…there's _always_ room in my home for mongrels."

Shelby nodded her head; just as something on her caught Sue's attention, drawing her close, "Oh, my, look at those earrings," The younger mother backed away, "Are those real diamonds? Not that cheap shopping kind?"

"Yes, they are real."

"I used to have diamonds like that. A different pair for, every day of the week," Sue brought her hands up to her ears, reminiscing the days when she used to have luxury items like the ones Shelby was wearing, "Did your husband give them to you?"

"He did."

"Hmm. They always do, when you're young and pretty."

Shelby nodded her head again, and let the other woman continue along with her story, "I came out here to be a movie star; did the screen tests and everything. But, nudity was the big deal then; the morals were just beginning to collapse, and I wasn't about to let my green pasture flash _seventy feet_ _high _for every man, woman, and child to see. So I took that little butterfly of a dream, and put it in a jar on the shelf. I went on to, become the cheerleading coach at one of the high schools around the area. Not Westfield High, but their _rival_ school, Eastbank High; I couldn't bear to even set foot in _that _horrid building, not after what happened so long ago. And soon after that, came the mongoloid, and, of course, I couldn't work in the movie industry after that."

Shelby, having heard quite enough of the woman's story, changed the subject, "It has been _so great_ to meet you. I mean, I just, I wasn't prepared for guests at all-"

"I'm gone," Sue waved her hand in the air, getting the hint, "Oh, I brought you this, a little housewarming gift," Shelby was about to take the present, but Sue hadn't finished, "Becky wanted to bake you some cookies, but she tends to _spit _in the cooking, so I thought this would be better. It'll help get rid of some of that bad ju-ju."

Sue looked at Shelby with an odd expression, "I don't quite remember your name, what was-"

"Right, no, I never got a chance to tell you my name. My name is Shelby Cor-" Sue waved her hand, like only the first name mattered.

"_Anyway_, relax and enjoy. Let me know if you need any help with that pup."

"_Will do_."

"I'm glad you're getting rid of that wallpaper. I thought those people were supposed to be stylish," Sue obviously talking about the past owners. When Shelby opened up the container, it revealed to be sage, "It's for cleansing the _spirits_ in the house; too many bad memories in here."

When Sue left to go back home, Shelby burned the sage and let the smoke air back and forth within the hallways of the house. She cleansed every room and every hallway, until she saw a string from the ceiling of the upstairs hallway, leading to the attic. Wondering what was up there, she pulled the white, plastic handle that connected to the string, bringing down the stairs. She got up and began to search for a light switch, so that she could see from the darkness. Reaching out with her hands, she finally found what she was looking for, and pulled the switch.

When the light turned on, a black, latex rubber suit was the first thing to greet her, as she screamed loud enough for Will to hear her. He jumped out of bed and rushed towards the attic, wondering what could've frightened his wife, "What happened? Are you okay?"

Shelby pointed towards the suit; making Will look at it, "_Whoa_. Guess these guys were into the kinky stuff. Should I try it on?" he jokingly asked his wife, who didn't think it was funny.

More footsteps reached the attic floor, as Rachel asked her parents what happened. She saw the suit and widened her eyes a bit, "Holy shit."

"Get rid of it," Shelby motioned Will, to throw the item away in the garbage bins, "C'mon, let's go downstairs." Will peered at the suit for a couple of seconds, thinking that there was something not quite right about the looks of it. He decided not to let his thoughts get the best of him, and threw the suit in the trash like Shelby had asked of him.


	5. I kill people I like

The next day, Will sat in his study room, carefully assessing his newest patient, Quinn Fabray. Her short, blonde and pink hair was hanging just above her shoulders, and she was sitting Indian-style directly across from Will. She was wearing a low-cut black t-shirt and tight, skinny jeans with a pair of black Converse shoes, a nose ring, and a long, chained necklace with a cross at the bottom. According to Will, her previous psychologist had sent her to Dr. Schuester, thinking he might be able to help Quinn with the problem she had seemed to be having lately.

Will was turning his pen with his fingers, while Quinn played with the hem of her ripped jeans, "So, Quinn, these, fantasies started…two years ago? Three years ago? When?"

"Two years ago," the blonde spoke in a cold tone, "It's always the same. It starts the same way."

"How? Tell me."

"I prepare for the noble war. I'm calm, I know the secret, I know what's coming, and no one can stop it, including myself."

"Do you target people that mean something to you, or people who are unkind to you?"

"I kill people I like," Quinnn amusingly tilted her head.

_In her 'fantasy', Quinn walked down the school hallways dressed in a war-like style. She had painted her face to look like a skull, and wore a black trench coat with gold buttons and cuffs. She wore thin, black pants, which were tucked into her black, combat boots. Her hair was slicked back so that it wouldn't bounce up and down, keeping its composure. Students avoided her like she was a disease, staying out of her way so that they wouldn't bother her. Quinn walked into a classroom full of students, who caught her attention. One by one, row by row, the students looked up at her, confused, including the teacher. The older woman asked the troubled girl, "Can I help you," and then the memory ended._

"Some of them begged for their life," Quinn stated, just now drifting out of her repeating fantasy, while Will took notes, "I don't feel sad, I don't feel anything. It's a filthy world we live in. It's a _filthy, goddamn_, helpless world we live in, and honestly, I feel like I'm helping to take them away from the shit, and the _piss_, and the _vomit _that run in the streets. I'm helping to take them somewhere _clean_ and kind_."_

Will thought about what Quinn had said, which actually made some sort of sense, in a weird and twisted way, as he let the young girl continue speaking, "You know, there's something about all that blood; I drown in it. Now the Indians believed that blood holds all the bad spirits, and once a month in ceremonies, they would cut themselves to let the spirits go free. There's something smart about that; _very smart_, I like that."

When Quinn looked up at Dr. Schuester, she saw a hallucination of herself behind him; she was standing upright and looking back at herself. The only difference was that blood had trickled down from the top of her head, until her neckline, right above the shirt she was wearing. The blonde snapped herself out of her distraction and went back to ask Will, "You think I'm crazy?"

The curly-haired psychiatrist pursed his lips together, "No. I think you're creative, and I think you have a lot of pain that you're not dealing with."

Quinn skeptically looked at Will, "My mother's probably worried about me, right?"

"I'm sure she is."

"She's a cocksucker. I mean, literally, a cocksucker. She used to suck the guy next door all the time. And when my dad found out, he just left. He left me alone with a stupid, cocksucking bitch. Can you imagine? How sick is that?" Quinn told the doctor.

"I've heard a lot worse."

"Chill," Quinn leaned forward, hoping to get at least one story from the older man, "Can you tell me? I like stories."

"No, I can't," Will shook his head.

The blonde slightly deflated, "The world is a filthy place. It's a filthy, goddamn horseshow. There's just so much pain and suffering, you know? There's just so much."

Meanwhile, upstairs in the bathroom, Rachel's addiction was coming back again. Back in Lima, no one, including her parents, knew about the little secret that she had kept to herself; she was a cutter. Years of being hurt, ridiculed, and even slushied paid a price for the diva. One night, after receiving a dozen slushies, the pain was too much for the girl, and thus began her craving for pain. She had used a two-blade razor as her first tool, and then went to buying blades from the store and using them, instead. Her addiction had lasted for less than about half a year, but it was enough to show a lot of cuts on her forearm, stomach, and legs.

The brunette put the blade in near-hot water and let it cool for a few seconds. She rolled up her left sweater sleeve, revealing a number of healing cuts. She dragged the blade into her skin, twice, watching the blood fall and splatter onto the sink.

Finishing her second cut, she heard a low, feminine voice come from the doorway, and looked up to find Quinn, "You're doing it wrong. If you're trying to kill yourself, cut vertically; they can't stitch that up."

Rachel turned around and tried to sound confident, "How'd you get in here?"

The older girl kept speaking, "If you're trying to kill yourself, you also might want to try locking the door."

The singer just stood there in wonder, while Quinn smirked at her, closing the bathroom door, "_Who the hell was that?"_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Later in the Evening<em>**

The house was quiet. Peaceful. Silent, even. The family decided to go to sleep, after an eventful afternoon. Everyone was already fast asleep, when Will awoke to the sounds of dark, unknown voices. He rose up from the bed, naked, and went downstairs to his study, where the fireplace was located.

"_Oh, my God__, no Shelbs, no. No!"_

Still in his unusual reverie, he leaned down and turned on the gas knob. He grabbed a box of matches, pulled one out, and lit it up. He watched, entrancingly, as the flame became smaller and smaller, and then proceeded to throw it into the fireplace. Flames suddently rose up from underneath, which soon died down, as Will just stood there, watching the fire, feeling its warmth wash over his tall body.

Footsteps began to come down the stairs; Shelby arrived at the floor to find her husband just standing at the fireplace, "Will? What are you doing?"

"Am I in a dream?" Was all he could reply, as he continued to exist in his trancelike state.


	6. Shelby and Will Meet Emma

Shelby was hanging up her freshly-cleaned bedroom sheets outside on the clothespins. Her hair was put up in a loose ponytail, and was wearing a V-neck t-shirt, a sleeveless, lightweight jacket, capris, and sandals. She was finishing putting the last item in the laundry basket up on the clothespin, wiping it away from any dark-colored dust that was seen on the linens, when she slightly jumped from a strange visitor coming towards her. The elderly woman had dark, gingered hair, from being recently colored, wore all black attire, and her right eye socket had a glass eyeball inside, from some sort of accident.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Emma Pillsbury, the housekeeper," the woman spoke coming up to and observing the berry tree growing in the yard.

"Oh," Shelby said, in a somewhat surprised fashion, "I didn't know the place came with a housekeeper."

"Why are you hanging your sheets? There's a perfectly good electric dryer inside," The elderly woman asked the brunette.

"I don't like all of those chemicals in the fabric softener, so I like to do it naturally."

"Here's my schedule: I work Monday through Thursday; Thanksgiving on and Christmas off. That was the deal with the last owners."

"Umm, look, Emma, it was very nice to meet you and everything, but I don't think we really need a housekeeper," Shelby politely protested.

Emma's lip slightly twitched; she then decided to test Shelby and see how she was caring for the house, "What do you use to clean the floorboards?"

"Murphy's Oil Soap. I like it better, and it's more natural."

"Oh, no, no," Shelby's eyebrow lifted upward in confusion, "Use white vinegar; oil soap kills the wood."

"Have you ever owned a house this old before, madame?" Emma looked up at the house, "It has a personality; mistreat it, and you'll regret it. May I come in? My cab's left and I'd like to call another."

Shelby hesitated for a moment to escort the redhead out, again, and continue hanging the sheets; but decided against it, and invited her inside for a cup of coffee, wanting to continue the conversation.

"So you worked for the previous owners, right?"

"Shelby, you said your name was, correct?" Shelby nodded, "Yes, I worked for the previous couple here. They were nice boys, too, the ones before you. I found their bodies. I've been the housekeeper here for years. People come and go, while I stay."

"Can I ask you what happened? I mean, I hate to gossip," Shelby curiously asked.

Emma took a spoon and started to cool down her coffee, "They fought a lot. Money issues, I think, but who can know when something so horrible happens. Sometimes people just go mad."

Shelby watched with intent as the older woman continued, beginning to sip her drink, "I clean the mess; you'd never even know."

"Can I ask you a personal question? Do you ever get tired of cleaning other peoples' messes?"

"We're women; it's what we do," Emma bluntly spoke, "I just get paid for it."

The mother chuckled, as Will came in the door, "Oh, hey! This is my husband, Will. Will, this is Emma Pillsbury, she was the housekeeper for the previous owners."

When Will took a first look at Emma, he saw a different kind of picture-a _much _different picture, than what Shelby was seeing. The same woman was sitting down in her chair, only appearing to be _decades_ younger, about in her late twenties. Her shiny, red hair was let down, hanging just above her shoulders in layers; her face showing no signs of wrinkles whatsoever; and _two_ olive irises were staring back at him with a predatory look, "It's nice to, erm, meet you," he stuttered.

A horn sounded from outside, "That's my cab. You don't mind if I use the lavatory, do you?"

Shelby let Emma go inside the bathroom, while Will watched her, as he was starting to peel a banana, walking in a sexy, French-maid's outfit.

"What do you think?" Shelby asked for her husband's opinion of Emma.

"Wait, y-you want to hire her?" Will kind of surprised by her choice, as he began eating his fruit.

"Well, yeah, I mean, she's a little kooky, but she seems trustworthy and knows the house very well. I feel like I could really use the help, you know?"

Will nodded his head in agreement, as Emma came out of the bathroom, "So, will you start tomorrow?"

"Thursday's better, but I could make it work."

"Okay. And you know, Emma, you don't have to wear the housekeeper's uniform," Shelby said, as Will looked again at Emma's younger-self, already starting to wonder what her _normal_ clothes consisted of.

"I don't like cleaning peoples' houses in my own clothes," She said, directly looking at Will with the same gaze, as she left the house, causing him to stop eating his banana for a moment and began shaking his head back and forth.

"What?" Shelby caught his action.

"Nothing. You just always surprise me. I like that," Will came up to his wife and began to kiss her passionately. He just started to kiss her neck, when she pushed him away, once again reminding her of him cheating on her. He looked at her and tucked her hair behind her ear, "You're going to have to forgive me one day." He kissed her on the lips, and then went out of the kitchen, making Shelby continue to try to figure out what to do with herself in their situation.

* * *

><p>"You mind if I tape this?"<p>

"No, not at all," Quinn spoke, comfortably lying on the recliner, in Will's study for another session with the psychaitrist.

"So, have you been taking your medications?"

"Yeah."

"Any side effects?"

"I was taking them at night, but they kept me up all the time."

"So what did you do?"

"I took them in the morning," Quinn looked back at the curly-haired man.

"Light sensitivity is pretty common."

"Maybe; yeah, I think so," Quinn guessed.

Will pursed his lips together, starting to put the puzzle pieces together, "One time, when I was in medical school, they brought in this CIA interrogator guy to help us better understand and identify who was lying." At the mention of _lying_, Quinn's guard slowly started to rise. "This guy was like, I don't know, six-foot _fifty, _with a crew cut. He must've been one hell of an interrogator, because let me tell you something, I would be terrified to lie to him."

Quinn soon got Will's point and rose up out of her seat, looking him dead in the eye, "You think I'm lying to you?"

"Light sensitivity isn't a side effect to what you've been having, Quinn," the blonde taking a seat in another chair, in the corner of the room.

"So you lied to me?"

"Look, what _is _important is that if you're telling the truth about doing these things to your classmates, if you're actually a danger to society, then the law states that I have to report you to the police," Will calmly said to his patient, as she was rocking back and forth in her chair.

"Did you call them?"

"Not yet," Will got up from his seat and went to stand in front of Quinn, "I've treated psychotics before; people with the right combination of chemical imbalance; psychological damage that can't be reached.

"So, you think that's me? You think I can't get better," the rebel asked raising an eyebrow in slight playfulness.

"You? Are you kidding me? You're hopeless," Will jokingly scoffed, making them both laugh in their conversation, "_Everyone_ can get better, Quinn. _Everybody_. I just think you're scared. Of what? I'm not sure yet, but maybe rejection, certainly because of what your father did to you."

"I was afraid my hole would close up."

"What?" Will curiously asked.

Quinn chuckled, "Yeah, that's why I didn't take the meds; I was afraid my hole would close up, because I met someone I like."

Across the hall, peeking from the staircase, Rachel stood observing Quinn; she was intrigued by the blonde and wanted to know more about her. When Quinn looked back at her, she got the same reaction. They both went upstairs in Rachel's bedroom, after the session with Will, talking about things they had in common, one being cutting themselves.

"This one, I got the day after my dad left. I was ten, I think," Quinn pointed at her wrist, showing a self-inflicted scar.

Rachel rolled down her sleeve to reveal the fresh, new cuts, and other healing scars, "Last week; first day at my new school. _Sucks_."

"Westfield, right?" The younger girl nodded, as Quinn whispered, "_The worst_. I got thrown out of there."

"I hate it there. I hate everyone here. All that _boojee_ designer bullshit. The East Coast is so much better. At least they have weather."

"I love when the leaves change."

"Really? Me too!" Quinn got up from sitting down across from Rachel, and went to walk over to the chalkboard Rachel had set up after the move.

"Why'd you move here?"

"My dad had an affair with one of his students; my mom _literally _caught him in the act."

"That's horrible. If you love someone, you should never hurt them. _Never._"

"I know, right?" Quinn began writing something on the board, "The worst part, though, is that six months earlier, my mom had this _horrible_ miscarriage. The baby was like seven months old, and we had to have this funeral for it. Have you ever seen a baby coffin?"

Quinn turned around after hearing Rachel's story, and writing the word _Taint_ on the board, and went to sit back down with her. She gently took Rachel's wrist with all of the new cuts and began to stroke her thumb on the now-healing scars, "I'm really sorry."

Rachel soon became nervous from what Quinn was doing and got up to go to her music player, quickly changing the subject, "Why are you seeing my dad?"

"Don't ask questions you already know the answers to. You're smarter than that," Quinn's tone grew serious, as Rachel took off her iPod from the jukebox.

"Do you want to listen to some Marcie? He's cool, and he's pissy, and he hates everyone and everything."

"Got any Kurt Cobain on there?"

Rachel was about to reply, when Will suddenly showed up, "What are you doing in here?"

"We were just listening to music, Dad. We weren't doing anything."

Will shook his head, thinking about what Quinn had spoken about her classmates in the first session, and immediately went into protective-parent mode, "You need to leave, Quinn. I'm sorry, but you shouldn't be in here, and I think you know that. Please," Will motioned with his hand the door exit, as Quinn got up to leave.

"What's that thing you think I'm afraid of, again? Fear of _rejection_?" Quinn said with venom in her tone, leaving the house.

Will watched Quinn go down the stairs, his teeth clenched, as he turned toward his daughter, "Stay away from her."

"Dad, nothing happ-"

"You heard me, Rachel Barbra!"

Meanwhile, Quinn stormed down the stairs, slamming her fist on the stair railing every few seconds, as she cursed and yelled with every step she took, making a promise to herself to come back and see Rachel again, no matter what it took.


	7. What are you doing in my house?

_**Later that day...**_

Will decided to take a shower to try to clear his head from what happened with Rachel's short interaction with Quinn in her room. He wanted to protect his daughter, even if it meant keeping her away from someone like the blonde rebel.

Since there weren't any razors in the shower when he got in, he walked out into the hallway and called to Shelby, "Hey, babe, have you seen my razorblades?" He was a few steps out of the bedroom doorway, listening to Pavarotti barking loudly, when something caught the corner of his eye. He turned his head toward the guest bedroom, where Emma was staying, and noticed her in the room.

Curosity killing the cat, he opened the door to see what she was doing. When he took one look at her, his eyes started to glaze over and his jaw dropped slightly at the sight. She was sitting comfortably on the leather recliner, with her legs spread apart, _touching_ herself with pleasure, her breathing heavy and shuddering, as she looked at Will with pure lust. With just one look at him, the corners of her lips twitched upward, as he quickly shut the door, his little friend starting to show up in his briefs.

He wanted the release. No. He _needed_ the release. He couldn't remember the last time him and Shelby did anything sexual in months, maybe even a year. Going back into the bedroom, he tore his clothes off and immediately began to stroke his cock in front of the window. With each time he jerked off harder, the more he moaned in pleasure. After a few minutes, he finally stopped, and began to quietly cry. How much could this Emma chick do to him? And it was only the first day of her job. This was going to be torture for him, if this was only the beginning.

"_Your family is in danger!"_

A voice soon faintly rang from outside, causing Will to snap his head up and find out who was outside on his property. He looked out the window to find a bald-headed man wearing a suit and tie, holding a black hat in one of his hands, stood out by the sheets Shelby had hung out to dry. He looked up at Will, one side of his body appearing to be scarred by burn markings.

Will soon grabbed his plaid bathrobe and ran outside, trying to find out who this mystery man was and why he was there. By the time he got there, it was too late; the man had disappeared, leaving Will wandering through a small maze of bedroom sheets, hoping he wouldn't come back.

* * *

><p>Shelby walked into the kitchen, carrying a bag of groceries from the local, organic store. She had just taken out a roll of paper towels and a six-pack of yogurt, when an unknown bang snap broke through the silence. Shelby jumped back in fright, when footsteps were heard by the older brunette, along with both refrigerator doors being opened, and one of the hallway doors being opened, too. A new sound, only of laughter, soon filled the air, causing Shelby to go towards the outside deck, where Becky was standing, just laughing for no reason whatsoever.<p>

"What are you doing?" Shelby asked the younger blonde, unbeknownst to her that a bloodied and ghostly Mike and Matt stepped out from behind her, in Becky's plain view, "Why are you in my house?"

Becky just continued to stand there, and point her finger and laugh at Shelby and the boys, because sooner or later, she and her family would end up exactly like the boys did- dead and trapped in the house for all of eternity.

* * *

><p>Shelby called Will and Sue to try and discuss Becky not sneaking into the house anymore. Becky, sitting next to Sue on the kitchen barstools, intently watched Pavarotti bark at her from where he was lying on the floor.<p>

"I want you to stop sneaking into my house, Rebecca. Do you understand?"

"Can I smoke in here?" Sue politely asked Shelby, nearly lighting a cigarette, in which Shelby would not allow to happen in the house, "Becky, answer me, please?"

Becky tore her eyes away from Shelby, ignoring her request, and went back to looking at Rotti, "Can I pet your dog?"

"No. Rebecca, I want you to stay out of the house. I want you to stop opening things up and telling me that I'm going to die."

"She said that?" Will's eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

Sue lightly laughed, and petted Becky's hair, "She says that to everybody that lives in the house. Say you're sorry, Becky."

"No. They did it."

"Who did it?" Shelby asked the younger girl.

"The twins!" Becky said, making Sue shush the younger girl, not wanting to bring up_ that _subject in front of the couple, and bringing on a fake smile towards Shelby.

Shelby shook her head back and forth, wondering where Becky had come up with her lie, "Can I pet your dog?"

The brunette had enough and walked over to Becky, cupping her face with both of her hands to get her attention, "No. Rebecca, I want you to _stop_ coming into my house _without_ my permission. Am I clear?"

"Shelby-".

"Am I clear?"

"Y-yes," Becky nervously answered, with Sue's watchful eyes on her daughter and Shelby the entire time.

"Time to go, Becky," Sue rubbed her daughter's shoulder, while she went to try to pet Rotti, who bit her on the hand as a response.

"Becky!"

The younger blonde held her injured hand and looked up at Will and Shelby, "You shouldn't have done that."

"Sorry about all of this," Sue said to the couple, patiently waiting for Becky to leave out of earssight. When Becky was finally gone, Sue growled at Shelby, giving her a stern warning before leaving the house, "You touch my kid one more time, and I will break your goddamn arm off."


	8. Why don't you touch me a little?

"No, I have no evidence of past violence…No, I don't have dissocial," Will spoke to someone in the local Public Service. He decided to do something about Quinn being a danger to people around herself, especially to Rachel if she happened to see her again, and called the department, "Do not transfer me again; I'm trying to report a patient of high school age, who I believe could be dangerous," Will slapped his hand on his pant leg in frustration, "Yes. Yes, I'll hold."

He threw his phone down on the floor in desperation; he had been trying to get ahold of someone all day, yet continued to be put on hold and kept receiving no answer from anybody. He tried to put on relaxing, elevator music to calm him down, yet was not prevailing by any means. To make matters worse, while he was sitting down on the leather couch, looking over some papers of new patients he was going to see, Emma opened the door to his study, causing him to sigh in disbelief. He was hoping things weren't going to be as bad as yesterday, after her little "show" in the guest bedroom.

The redheaded housekeeper slowly walked in the room, ready to close the door behind her, "May I clean in here?"

"It's not a good time, Emma."

"It's Thursday," she said, putting her bucket of cleaning materials down on the ground, and grabbing a duster from the bin, "I get off in twenty minutes. If I don't do it now, it won't be cleaned until Monday."

Will stayed silent, looking back at his lists, while Emma lazily dragged the duster over one of the shelves of the bookcase, continuing to curiously look at him. His eyes wondered up once or twice to the beautiful woman; her catching the subtle looks, as she then put the duster feathers on her sternum, "Am I distracting you?"

When Will didn't her question, she took that as a definite yes and began to slowly walk towards him, like a hawk nearing towards its prey, and began to unbutton her blouse, revealing a lacy and strapless, black bra. To make him even more uncomfortable than now, she grabbed a hold of her right breast, and began to squeeze it, trying to get him aroused, "Why don't you touch me a little?"

"Get out," Will demanded her.

"What are you afraid of?" She asked the curly brunette, making him think back to when Shelby caught him in the act months earlier, "Your wife's not home; she's probably at Pilates. I won't tell."

Emma started walking towards him again, unstrapping her lingerie attachment, making Will back away, "Oh, God."

"I know you saw me playing with myself yesterday," Emma put her legs right outside of his, and leaned down to his face, "Did you touch yourself after?"

"Please, just go," Will begged her; he didn't want Shelby to catch him again, not when she said that she would leave if it happened one more time.

"You did," Emma whispered in his ear, confirming her question. She squeezed his pant leg, wanting more from him, "_Do it again_. _Show me_."

Just when things couldn't get any worse than right now, the door creaked opened, revealing an _open-mouthed_ and _shocked _Rachel staring right at the two, Emma in her elderly form, just as she was about to leave for school.

"_Shit_!" Will said, as Rachel began to run back upstairs to her room, him missing her so that he could give his chance to explain what happened.

"Rachel. Rachel! _Damn it_!" The father slammed his fist on the handle of the staircase.

* * *

><p>It was the slap heard around the world- or the school's cafeteria, that is. Rachel's face flung back, after The Mack confronted her, not only smoking on school grounds again, but also about the short brunette spitting on her face the last time they saw each other. To say the taller girl had forgotten about the incident was the understatement of the century, and she wanted revenge. No one attacked her like that and got away with it.<p>

After her face quickly began to sting from a handprint, her anger was soon unleashed, something that would've never happened to her back at McKinley High. She soon pushed back Mack into the wall, Sheila and Ronnie trying to grab both of her arms to pull her away, "I'm not scared of you!"

"You should be!" Mack screamed back at the younger girl. The trio managed to get Rachel off of her and drag her from across the table, moving trays of food out of the way, and onto the floor, the three girls holding her down. "_Fight! _"chants were echoing through the room from the other students who wanted to see something go down between the girls. When there was no other option left to choose, Rachel thrashed and shoved one of the sidekicks out of the way, using her free hand to grab the cigarette she had been smoking before being slapped, and put it right on Mack's hand.

The other girl soon stood up and screamed, holding her hand in pain, just as a teacher held her back, as Rachel soon found her chance to escape and run away, "You freaking burned me!"

* * *

><p>Back at the house, Shelby had just taken the last bits of the wallpaper down, to reveal the paintings that had been shut away since the previous homeowners decided to cover it up. The decades-old mural had religious images, such as angels and demons interacting with the human world, the devil whispering to a passerby, while a child covered his eyes below him in fear.<p>

Will came in the room, looking to see how much his wife had peeled away, before commenting on the paintings, "My professional opinion? Whoever painted this wall had some _deep_, psychological issues."

Shelby lightly chucked as his joke, "I thought you had a patient?"

"Nah, they bailed," Will shrugged his shoulders, "You need any help?"

"Yeah, thanks," Shelby smiled at his offering and gave him a bucket to toss the scraps in.

"So this doesn't freak you out? Not one bit?"

"I just, there's something about this I find, really comforting."

"One of my buddies from grad school used to tell me about people telling stories to cope with their fears. All art and myths are just creations to give us a sense of control over things we're scared of: fear of dying, reincarnation, being afraid of evil, the creation of benevolent gods who sends evil-doers to hell."

"I think I just like that I don't have to think about it."

Will chuckled at her humor and smiled, "Okay."

A short silence soon rang in the room, and Will felt the need to break through it, while Shelby continued to clean up the mess, "I always thought you were prettiest like this: no make up, messy hair, all sweaty-"

"And old," Shelby turned back around, making known of her insecurities.

"Stop," Will whispered, walking towards her, "You're beautiful. You are."

He came up behind his wife and tried to hold her, who shook her head, hung low in denial of his remarks. When Will tried to be even a little bit intimate with Shelby, she didn't give him the chance and told him no. He raised his head in disbelief and made his jaw slack, while Shelby continued to tell him she didn't want anything to happen.

As she kept apologizing, Will's rage soon arrived, and he flipped a chair over in complete frustration, Shelby's jaw dropping at the scene, "How long, Shelb? How long are you going to punish me for?"

"I'm not punishing you, you narcissistic asshole," She protested his immature complaint, "I'm trying to figure out how to _forgive you_, for _having sex_ with one of your students. You want me to have sex with you? I can't even look at your face, Will, without seeing the expression, while you were piledriving her in our bed!"

"_I screwed up_!" Will yelled at the top of his lungs, trying to get his point across, "How many times do I have to say it? I'm sorry! I was hurting too!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Shelby put her hands over her chest in fake heartache, "Did, did the, did the life that was growing inside you _die_? And did you have to carry that around in your belly? The dead corpse of our baby son? Did you have to go into labor and deliver our child? _Dead_?"

"My son died, too. _My baby died, too_-"

"You buried your sorrow in some twenty-one year-old's pussy," Shelby put the fact out bluntly for Will to hear.

"You know," Will continued to argue, as Shelby just stood and shook her head, "I could show you statistics on how many men cheat after a miscarriage. I was there for you, I was patient, and understanding, and caring, and I put _your_ feelings _first_."

Shelby snorted and put her hands on her hips, "My. Hero."

"You know, I don't even know how to come off without sounding like an asshole-"

"You know what? Just go ahead," the mother cried out, "Really. It never stopped you before. You're so _angry, _why don't you really tell it like it is. Six months of therapy with you _apologizing, _and _crying_, was just _bullshit_. So please, tell me how you _really_ feel."

"You got a dog," Shelby rolled her eyes at his excuse, "I needed you, and you got a dog. It was _me_ you should have been curling up with at night, _not a dog_!"

"Oh, I get it, you needed me, so she was revenge because you needed me, because I was there for you _in your time of need_? _Now I get it._"

"We haven't had sex in almost a year."

"Yeah," Shelby nodded her head in anger, "You think I don't know that?"

"October 20th. We had great sex, Shelbs, it was loving and sexy and personal, and even, even a little weird!"

Shelby didn't say anything, knowing she was about to be defeated, and Will continued to talk to her, "I. Love. You_. _I moved across the country for you, because in all my life, the only thing I've been truly scared of, is losing you, losing this family. Something horrible happened to us, and we handled it even more horribly. But this place is our second chance. It's our second chance, Shelbs. But I need to know that you want it, too."

Will tucked her hair behind her ears and cupped her face, deciding to take a risk. When he got too close, for her, she pushed him away.

"What are you doing?" Will asked in wonder, making her come towards him and punching his chest with her fists and continuing to push him away in anger and rage. He soon grabbed ahold of her and put his hand on the back of her head, trying to get her to calm down. A few moments later, all of their anger and frustration soon dissipated away when their lips touched together. They passionately kissed and became so caught up in the moment that they both fell back on the recliner and continued to feel the _need_ they had both been wanting, even more, for what felt like for so long.

"We're going to be happy here," Will spoke, as the flames in the fireplace lit up and crackled into the evening.


	9. Rachel Wants Revenge

I'm just going to warn you all now, since this is still rated T, that there's a short sex scene in this chapter...and I've never written a sex scene before. So hopefully it's not too bad for my first try. Oh! And Quinn is back in this chapter :)

* * *

><p>Later that evening, while Will was working with a patient in the study, Shelby was tending to Pavarotti's needs, and gave him a bowl of clean water. The small, white terrier happily wagged its tail in its quench for thirst, as Shelby got up and stood next to the countertop, just as Rachel walked in the backdoor from school.<p>

At first everything seemed fine for the smaller brunette, that is, until Shelby spotted a large, fresh cut above her left eyebrow. Dry blood surrounded the opening, while a small trail went down past the eyebrow's end, near her eye, "Whoa, come here. What happened to your face?"

Rachel exhaled in defeat and walked toward her mother. So much for not getting away unnoticed. Maybe a little lie would do the trick, "I fell down the stairs."

Shelby sighed at her daughter in pain, "Come here, sit down. Boy or girl?"

The young singer realized her mom saw through her lie and asked about another fight she was in with The Mack and her two sidekicks, "Girls. Three of them."

"I bet they look worse than you do," Rachel's lip lifted upward in a small smile, "You know their names?"

"I'm not ratting."

"You know, we can easily move you to a different school. There's a lot of really good private schools in the neighborhood," Shelby offered her daughter.

"I'm not running away. I'm not scared of them," Rachel bravely spoke.

"You're not afraid of anything," Shelby plucked a tissue from the box and used it to clean Rachel's face, "It's like that time in kindergarten when you insisted that I bring you home from the slumber party because all of the other girls were sleeping with the night light on. I know you've gotten the short end of the stick lately; this move, and...your dad and I haven't exactly been so great to be around-"

"Why don't you guys just get divorced if you're so miserable?"

"We still love each other."

"Could've fooled me," the petite brunette said sarcastically, "I thought you hated each other, well, at least you hated him. I don't blame you, though, he's kind of a shithead."

Shelby looked at Rachel, as if she was silently scolding her for the language, "Sorry."

"It's okay, he kind of _was_ a shithead. You know, I've kind of got a lot of history; your dad's been through a lot, I've been through a lot. I guess we need each other."

Rachel waited a few seconds to bring up another subject, while her mother kept cleaning her forehead from the dry blood, "What are you so afraid of? You said I'm not scared of anything, so, what scares you?"

"Lately? Everything. Life will do that to you."

* * *

><p>"I hate her! I just want to kill her!" Rachel yelled in her bedroom, with Quinn sitting in her tan, leather recliner, listening to the other girl vent her anger out.<p>

"Then do it," The rebel simply suggested, watching the younger girl pace back and forth across her room, "One less high school bitch making the lives of the less-fortunate more tolerable, is, in my opinion, a public service. Look, if you want her to leave you alone, and to stop making your life a living hell, just short of killing her, then there's only one option: Scare her. Make her afraid of you."

That idea stopped Rachel in her tracks, making her turn to face the blonde, "How?"

"It's simple. You simply walk up to her and say, _'Here's the deal, I need you to _stop_ harrassing me. I got what you want: Drugs. Come to my house tomorrow for a free sample. I'm a dealer and a hell of a good one; I got the best shit in town.'_"

"She's a pot head," Rachel came up with the only conclusion possible about Mack, "I don't have pot."

"You don't need any, it's just an excuse to get her here. After that, she'll leave here empty and terrified, and I promise you that you'll never be bothered by her again. _Ever._"

Rachel thought about the idea for a few more moments before asking, "How am I going to terrify her, then?"

"That's where I come in," Quinn devilishly smirked, as their plan to scare the tormentor was officially put into action.

* * *

><p>As Rachel was putting her plan in motion, Shelby went up to her bedroom to get ready to go to sleep. She was wearing her lacy, black bra and underwear, with a loose, black cardigan, on the sofa, while putting some lotion on her legs. She was too distracted by the fact that the door had slowly creaked open to reveal a tall figure in the entryway, wearing a black rubbersuit, with only the eyes being visible. A knock broke through her reverie, making her look up at the mysterious person. Since Will was the one that found the suit in the attic, she assumed it was <em>him<em> wearing the outfit.

She scoffed at his appearance, applying more lotion to her legs, "_Hot_. I thought I told you to throw that thing away?"

Not saying a word, the being walked towards Shelby, "Oh, you're not talking? Well, I'll give you points for creativity. You know, we were pretty hot this afternoon."

The Rubberman just stood a few feet in front of the older woman, still not uttering a word; Shelby taking off her cardigan, "You really want to go for round two, huh? Alright, I can be kinky."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile in the kitchen, downstairs, the knobs to the kitchen stove were being turned on to <em>high<em>. Small, controlled blue flames were lit up on the appliance. Will was once again back in his hypnotic state, just like a few nights before, when he was naked at the fireplace, entranced by the fire. His hand soon reached out to try to feel the warmth of the flames, or even going as far as to touch the fire itself.

* * *

><p>With Shelby not coming to the consideration that the Rubberman might <em>not <em>be her husband, and some complete stranger about to have sex with her, she laid down on the bed, as 'Will' pulled down his zipper in his nether regions. He soon got on top of Shelby, with her looking into his eyes, still thinking it was her husband. A hallucination of Will invaded her vision, as the Rubberman soon filled her. With each thrust he made, her moans got louder and louder, making her grab onto its shoulders, just as she reached her climax. For some reason, though, and she didn't know why it was, but visions of the mural with the angels and devils came to her mind.

Maybe it was a future coincidence, and maybe it wasn't. She guessed to herself that she would never know.

* * *

><p>The hallucinations were back again. The voices reigned in his head once more, as Will was centimeters away from touching the burning sensation. Right before the spirits were about to cheer in celebration, their victory was cut short, when a slender, feminine hand reached for Will's wrist, saving him from injuring himself. It was Sue, wearing a purple, white-striped Adidas tracksuit, who was rescuing Will from the dark forces that lurked inside the house. She looked past his eyes, into his soul, "Now is not the time."<p>

Unknown that he was even in a trance, Will just looked at the elder woman, his mouth hanging open a little, as she continued speaking to him, calmly, "Enjoy the house. Now, go back to bed."

* * *

><p>By the time Will got back upstairs, Shelby was laying on her side, wide-eyed and her left hand laying just above her face, as Will sat on the edge of the bed, the couple facing the opposite sides. Neither knew what had happened to the other, and hoped to keep it that way.<p>

"I love you."

"I love you, too," Will spoke back in a monotone echo.

* * *

><p>Rachel's plan was officially a-go. The Mack had <em>no<em> idea what was about to happen, and neither did Rachel. All the smaller brunette knew was that as soon as the two girls got down into the basement that Quinn would take care of the rest. She didn't know what the blonde would do to scare the taller girl, but all she wanted in the end was to finally be left alone.

The light switch was soon turned on, as Rachel followed right behind Mack down the stairs, "What's down there?"

"My stash. My parents don't even know about it."

"If you're screwing with me-"

"It's just the basement," Rachel cooly assured the other girl, "I found the best hiding place. This is great shit, too; a lot of drugs coming to the US from Central America, smuggled down on lobster boats. I used to show my boobs to the lobstermen in return for a kilo, before they cut it."

Mack didn't give two cents about Rachel's story of how she got the drugs; she just wanted to know where they were and cut right to the chase, "Where is it?"

"Right around the corner," Mack's eyes narrowed for a second in slight suspicion, but went to where Rachel told her to go, anyway.

At first she couldn't find her way around, seeing as how you could practically get lost down there, causing the singer to give directions, "To the right."

"Ugh. This place is a dump."

"Would you shut up?"

"I want my damn drugs."

"Then keep going."

The two girls kept walking down the hallway, Mack walking right into the trap-room and Rachel turning on the lights. The other brunette jumped a little when she saw Quinn sitting in an antique, white rocking chair, lightly swinging back and forth, "So this is the coke whore?"

Mack immediately went on the defense, Rachel smirking behind her, "Who the hell are you?"

"Get the lights," The blonde spoke coldly, as the room soon went dark. A couple moments later, an overhead light began to flicker on and off in an irregular pattern. The blonde started laughing menacingly, as Mack started freaking out, "What is going on? What is going on?"

Quinn soon began to shake violently as the lights kept flickering, almost like she was having a seizure. Rachel looked from the entryway, as she saw two, _very_ different people- or rather _things_- sitting in the white chair. While one of them was Quinn, the other being looked like a small, demonic mutant. It was bald and had strands of gray hairs coming out of a wrinkled head. Crooked, sharp teeth were bared at Mack, blood pouring from the mouth, onto the chin. Raggedy, torn-up clothing covered its small body frame; its claws ready to attack the girl.

What the hell was this thing? How was Quinn even doing this? Were things like this real, let alone possible?

Quinn's voice soon became low and hoarse, as she soon rose up from the chair and grabbed Mack from behind the shoulders, taking her down to the ground and shaking her body. The lights continued to quickly turn on and off; Rachel tried to beg and yell for Quinn to stop, when she kept seeing the blonde and the small monster attacking the other girl, but to no prevail. What she didn't realize, nor care to know, was that Quinn was standing right behind her, watching the scene unfold before her.

Somehow the singer was tackled to the ground, either by the monster or by Quinn, but she crawled over to the rusted furnace, as she helplessly watched Mack get attacked by an evil, supernatural being. As the other girl was turned around, her back to the floor, Rachel's face lit up in terror, with the creature's claws inches away from her face.

"Mommy," The popular girl whispered in a desperate, last cry for help; claws soon slashing at her left cheek, revealing large, open wounds with blood slowly beginning to seep out. Rachel soon made her way back up and turned the lights back on. What she witnessed was Mack thrashing on the floor in total fear with huge cuts on her cheek, from the monster; Quinn was just rocking back and forth in the chair, just like she did before the lights went off, grinning at the traumatized girl in pain.

With the scare finally over, Mack got up and ran out of the basement for her life. It would be the last time she ever set foot in _that _place again. Rachel tried to go after her, but it was no use; the girl was scared straight from what she had just gone through, and Rachel didn't blame her; not in the least, "Mack, wait!"

"I don't think she'll be bothering you anymore," Quinn nonchalantly walked up to the entryway, obviously unfazed by the entire scene.

"What was that?"

"What are you talking about? She kneed me in the groin and got away; she probably ran into a wall or something."

"No! I saw something!" Rachel wanted answers to what had just happened. This was no ordinary scare. This was something completely out of the ordinary, into the depths that Rachel wanted to find out how far it went to in this house.

"What are you, Rachel, what are you talking about? You're talking crazy. This is cool, we showed that bitch," Quinn argued against Rachel, still shaken by what she had seen.

The younger girl just shook her head in what Quinn was saying, "Get out. I never want to see you again!"

The rebel tried to get close to Rachel, only to be pushed away, as she watched the girl run up the stairs and slam the door, screaming in the silence, "I thought you weren't afraid of anything!"


	10. Your family is in danger!

The next morning, as the sun began to rise, Will decided to go for an early morning run. He needed to clear his head from what happened last night, not even aware that his wife had cheated on him and had sex with someone—let alone, _something_—else. He looked over the bridge he was running across to see the traffic on the highway. Since it was early in the morning, not very many cars were traveling on the road, versus rush hour which would be in about an hour or so.

The curly-haired was nearly halfway across the bridge when something caught his attention. Turning his head to see what the curious noise was, an older car slowly trailed behind him, obviously following him. Getting of the bridge, he turned his head again to still find the vehicle stalking him like a lion's next prey.

He crossed to the other side of the road, to go onto the dusty running path. Looking up in his grey zip-up hoodie and black sweatpants and tennis shoes, the car was driving on the street, the driver looking right at him, to their left.

Will continued to jog, hoping to outrun the stranger, who had chosen to park their car and walk after him instead. He kept up a good pace, though, having only a dozen yards or so behind Will. The father tried to avert the man in a different direction by going onto another running path, only to still be pursued.

The brunette had had enough; he ran faster, hoping the man's limp would be too slow to catch up. After running down numerous hills and pathways, Will found a hiding spot within a few bushes to escape in, and crept inside, waiting for the creep to show up and demand answers from him.

With luck, the guy stopped right where Will did before he went to hide. At the next second, Will emerged and roughly put his hand on the older man's shoulder, making him shriek and turn around in fear. It was the same man who Will had supposedly seen after masturbating in the living room, out in the backyard.

"Who are you?" Will demandingly ordered, "And why are you following me?"

"Your family is in danger!" The stranger replied, trying to catch his breath, while Will began to ponder what he meant.

The two men went over to an architectural area in the park and sat down on one of the structures. After a few seconds in silence, Will was the first to speak, noticing his burn scars, "What happened to you?"

The suited man turned to face Will, the left side of his body entirely burned, "Pretty aren't I? It's over seventy percent of my body." Taking a deep breath, he introduced himself, pointing his hat right in Will's face, "I'm Sandy Rhodes, and you have to get out of that house."

"I could have you arrested, you know. Peeking at people's windows is still a crime, even in L.A."

Sandy internally shook his head at Will's apparent threat, "They're not gonna put me back in jail. I have brain cancer; it's terminal and inoperable."

"I'm sorry."

Sandy raised his head up at Will, "Don't be. That's the only reason they let me out.

"_Homicide, triple homicide_. I was in that house for six months before I started hearing voices. My wife thought I was working too hard. My son, Jake, was six. The older one, Brody, was ten. He looked like his mother. It's funny how it skips a generation like that.

"I killed them. _All_. Kendra was ill that night; she took a pill. She went to bed early, my wife, and then I put the boys down. And then the voices started; they told me what to do. I was like, an obedient child.

"I don't know how I put myself out," Sandy snapped his fingers, finishing his chilling story, "I remember that night, but it's like a dream."

Ben thought Sandy's story through for a few seconds; yes it was extremely unfortunate, shocking, and heartbreaking for what happened to him and his family, but he thought there was a line when it came to how involved the house was in the murders.

When Will was asked one final question from Sandy, "Have you been sleepwalking," he knew he had to get back to the house. He got up to leave, Sandy begging him to look at his case and read the transcripts.

"Listen to me, I'm a doctor. They may not put you back in jail, but I can certainly have you committed to a state mental institution, and trust me, those places make _prison_ look like _Club Med_. Leave my family alone. Do you hear me?" Will yelled out, as Sandy kept shaking his head back and forth, not wanting to imagine the horror of being placed in an insane asylum.

With no other way to try to persuade him, Sandy leaped out from his seat and grabbed onto Will, "Please, please. You have to get out of that house; you have to get out of there! _That place, is evil_."

"Get off of me!" Will threw Sandy off of him, running away back home, as Sandy grinned shortly thereafter, "Leave us alone! Leave us alone!"

* * *

><p>Back at the Schuester-Corcoran residence, Sue laid her hands on a wooden, polished, jewelry box, containing priceless pearls, earrings, and bracelets. Ever since she took sight of Shelby's diamond earrings, she knew temptation was only a matter of time before she set out to get what she wanted. Picking up one of the earrings, she put them up to her ear, when Emma's voice sounded out in the silent master bedroom, "Put those earrings back."<p>

Sounds of jewelry hitting the floor came about, as the older blonde glared at the elderly, red-headed woman, "Jesus H. Christ, you almost gave me a damn heart attack."

"Those belong to the Madame. This is her house, not yours," Emma told Sue, entering the bedroom.

"Why is it that it is always the old whore who acts the part of a moralistic prude? I'd be nervous if I were you, too," Sue warned the other woman, pointing her slender finger at her, "When things go missing, they always blame the new maid. I'd move, if I were you."

The maid narrowed her eyes, and then moved aside for Sue to walk out, the blonde shaking her head, before warning Emma, "Don't make me kill you again."

* * *

><p>After coming home to change from running- and Sandy's encounter-Will changed back into his normal attire. He was sitting at one of the stools of the breakfast bar, thinking about Sandy's story and the possible connection the house had with it. Maybe there <em>was <em>some truth to what he was saying, especially with the mysterious voices and the sleepwalking mentioned.

Then again, the man had brain cancer, and had nearly three-fourths of his entire body burned and scarred. This could be just another part of the man's symptoms that he's suffering from. Whatever the answer may be, Will was still shocked and stunned by the event.

The door leading outside opened up, snapping Will out of whatever he was thinking and focused on Shelby, who was walking through the door, "Hey."

The mother set her arms down comfortably on the bar, across from her husband, "So, what would you like for dinner?"

"Whatever you want."

Shelby bit her lip, obviously wanting to tell Will something important, "I think I want Indian food."

_Hold on. Indian food? There's no way. _"You only want Indian food, when you're pregnant," Will spoke. Shelby looked up, a smile slowly forming on her face as he soon took in the news.

"You are? Really?" Shelby happily nodded, tears starting to fall from her face, "Oh my God." He got up from his chair and walked over to her, passionately kissing her with every second that passed. The two just held onto each other, thanking God for giving them another chance to have another baby together.

What neither person realized, though, was that in the midst of the celebration, the Rubberman stood from behind the glass door, hearing the news that Shelby was pregnant. Part one of its' mission was complete. Now to patiently wait for the newborn's birth and watch the magic unfold within the house.

* * *

><p>Yes, I used Kendra as Sandy's wife. She was the only person I could think of out of the rest of the characters who to put as for Loraine. And I know Larry had two daughter's; I decided to use the two new guys who are going to play Brody Weston and Jake Puckerman on Glee Season 4, as Sandy's sons. Hope it works out :)<p> 


	11. You think Jesus is going to save you?

**1968**

It was a late, cool evening during the fall of 1968. In the same house- as the murder of the Mischief twins, ten years ago- a different kind of murder took place, one not as evil as the creature living in the basement, but just as sinister. The Doors were playing in the city and the guys did not want to miss this concert, even if they had exams the next morning.

"Guys, come on already, traffic's gonna be a drag getting to the Bowl, and I don't want to miss 'Light My Fire'," Rick "The Stick" Nelson, one of the guys said, walking down the stairs with his friend.

"Ah, calm down, you just want to get a hard on from Jim Morrison," Azimio Adams joked back behind his friend. They had been waiting since the beginning of summer for this concert, and they were not about to waste it just because it was a school night.

Unlike the strong jocks, however, two other residents of the house chose not to go to the event, seeing as how school was more important to them and could not afford to waste any time getting one step closer to becoming full-time nurses for the hospital. The two stopped behind the couch, near the front door, and looked on as Kurt Hummel, one of their housemates, was doing some late-night studying for an exam.

"Hey, Kurt," Rick spoke first, causing the younger student to look up, "You wanna come see The Doors with us?"

"I can't. I have an anatomy test tomorrow."

"Ah, come on, Kurt. You're such a square, man," Rick replied.

"Hey, leave him alone, guys," Blaine Anderson, the second nurse, protested, wearing a long, light-weight cardigan over his uniform, as he walked into the living area, "What did he ever do to you?"

Azimio simply shrugged his shoulders, "He refused to pay for my sins."

"Yeah, well, I hope you get the Clap," Blaine retorted, sitting down on the recliner to watch a gaming show that was on television, shortly lighting a cigarette afterwards.

"Whatever," Azimio said, leaving with Azimio and Rick, while Kurt underlined the words '_acute pain_' on the book.

The moment the guys got comfortable in the quiet house, there was a knock on one of the windows from Rick, making Kurt jump in fear, and Blaine turning around to see their housemate giving them both the finger. "Assholes," Blaine muttered, making Kurt nod in agreement.

A few minutes later, knocks on the door were heard by the two students. Thinking it was the guys trying to scare them again, Blaine warned Kurt not to answer to whomever was outside, even though he did, anyway.

Opening the door, Kurt saw, was not the guys pranking them again, but a man appearing to be around their age, wearing a long-sleeved, black, buttoned-up polo, and a long, tan coat, who raised his hand up to about where his injury was located, "Excuse me, sir, I don't want to bother you, but, I'm hurt, and, uh, needing some help."

Kurt was hesitant at first about letting the man inside. There was something in his eyes that just didn't seem right, but from the looks of the situation, he definitely needed help. And being a nurse in training would give him some more practice for what to do in the field. Letting the stranger in, the shorter brunette guided him to the couch to lay down and help him heal.

"This might sting a little," Kurt assured the injured man, Karofsky, they believed his name was, whose eyes were halfway open as he took in his surroundings to the room. Blaine sat across from them, a container of medical supplies in his lap.

When Karofsky laid his eyes on the golden cross around Kurt's neck, he took a hold of the cross, "You think Jesus is going to save you?"

Blaine's head lifted up, looking at Kurt for his answer, as he smiled, "Oh, I'm already saved. We all are."

Karofsky looked at Blaine, who smiled right back at the man. The blood on the man's head was finally gone, but something seemed rather odd about his situation. There was no wound, as Kurt had said; so where how did the blood get there?

As soon as the boys started realizing that this might not have been a good idea, after all, Karofsky realized it was time to act. He grabbed a small pottery bowl from the nearest table and smashed it on Kurt's head, instantly making him unconscious. Blaine immediately got up to escape, right as Karofsky angrily pointed his finger at him, "Don't get smart."

Blaine slowly began to back away from the attacker, "_It__'ll only make it worse_." The other boy screamed in terror and tried to run behind the couch, only to be stopped by Karofksy, who soon grabbed a hold of him and threw him to the ground, knocking him out as well. When the first part of his plan was complete, he stepped behind the glass doors, seperating the room, and closed them behind him, smirking at how easily this was going to be.

* * *

><p>Kurt woke up minutes later, on the couch, feeling something wet fall onto his head. Slowly opening his eyes and furrowing his eyebrows, his view was faced towards the ceiling, where water had been dripping from above, one drop falling every couple of seconds. A large water spot was located on the ceiling, and other water droplets falling as well.<p>

What the hell was going on upstairs? And what happened to Blaine? Kurt only hoped that his friend would be okay, seeing as how he was knocked out before Blaine was.

He lifted his head up and looked forward to see Karofsky, who had taken off his coat and was holding some sort of white clothing or item, "Wake up, sugar."

Kurt was terrified. He didn't know what was happening, nor did he care. He just wanted someone to burst through the door and be his saviour, so that him and Blaine would be safe. He would even promise Karofsky he wouldn't tell anybody about this. But he soon put it together that the man wasn't leaving anytime soon, and that there was nothing good coming out of this madman being here.

Karofsky suddenly threw two items at Kurt, who flinched with each item tossed at him, "Put it on. Do it."

The smaller teen began to shake in fear and sniffle to keep the tears at bay. He didn't want to seem weak in front of this guy. Finding out that one of the items was a nurse's outfit, he began to put it on over his polo t-shirt, only to be scolded by Karofsky, "No, not over your clothes. Take. Them. Off."

Grey eyes widened in panic; invading thoughts and fears about being raped and then being murdered quickly came up in his mind. This was not how he wanted his life to end. He started to unbutton his shirt, begging for his virginity to be intact, just as Karofsky reached into his right pocket and pulled out a switchblade, "Strip. Now."

When the robe soon came on, Karofsky seemed to relax a bit. Kurt pulled the two sides of the shirt together, trying to cover up his chest. Karofsky soon walked over and told him to lie on his stomach on the couch, hog-tying him up with sheets he found upstairs in one of the bedrooms. Kurt's breathing soon became heavy and panted, as he looked over in pain at Karofsky, sitting on the recliner with the switchblade in his fingers, "I told you. Jesus can't save me."

Dying seemed to be the only outcome possible for the young nurse. With his best friend probably dead upstairs in the bathtub from drowning, Kurt's decided his last resort would be saying a prayer to God, hoping that he would be saved and sent to Heaven in the afterlife. Karofsky seemed to him praying and slowly came up to him, his head tilting in amusement at his newest victim's desperation. With his final, "Amen," a tear slid down Kurt's cheek, knowing this would be the end of his life. Karofsky only seemed to grin at the boy's last words, and walked out of the room, leaving Kurt to only hope that he would be spared from this nightmare.

The only sounds at the moment had come from the television of some black and white sitcom. Not even footsteps were heard coming towards Kurt, until it was too late. One after the other, the switchblade came down on Kurt's back, stabbing him multiple times. Blood squirted out of his back and onto the white sofa, as the teen screamed in agonizing pain, until death soon came upon him, silencing him forever.


	12. I bet you think about sex

**A/N: Hey, guys! I'm really glad you all are liking this story so far :)**

** So if any of you guys didn't like how the last chapter turned out, and possibly this one, too, I take the blame on both parts. It was a little tricky trying to figure out how to start the next episode out; along with my hiatus, which I will try not to do for that long again. I may be a little busy with college coming up, but I will keep updating this story. That's a promise I'm making to you all. So, like I said at the very beginning, I hope you all enjoy this story!**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own AHS, nor do I own Glee. They both belong to Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk.

* * *

><p><strong>Today<strong>

Will once again sat in his study with Quinn, continuing to study and examine her possible psychopathic behavior. He needed to get inside of her head to try to see what was really going on with the blonde. So far the sessions had been lasting only a few weeks. So far he had gotten bits and pieces about Quinn's past life. He hadn't gotten much further to where he wanted to, as far as why she acted the way she did. All he knew was that there was progress. And the more he made with her, the better the sessions would hopefully go.

The two were sitting on opposite sides of each other; Quinn on the sofa, wearing a black and grey striped sweatshirt, ripped boyfriend jeans, black and white Chuck Taylors, a black beanie, and her ever-so favorite accessory, her nose ring. Her legs were crossed, and her arms were placed comfortably on either side on the top of the couch. Will, on the other hand, wore a vertical navy striped, long-sleeved polo shirt, tucked underneath his khaki pants.

A buzzing sound broke through the quiet silence between the two. Someone was trying to call Will on his cell, which shortly interrupted the session. Quinn intently studied Will, as he turned his head, to see what he would do with his device. Would he answer it? Would he ignore the call? What if it was an emergency?

"Sorry," The psychiatrist apologized, scribbling down a few more notes on his pad, before picking up the phone. He pressed one of the buttons, which made him ignore the mystery person's call, and put the phone back down where he left it, focusing back to his session with Quinn.

"So, what do shrinks think about, when a wildly, brilliant patient doesn't talk to punish said psychiatrist?" Quinn pondered out loud, "I bet you think about sex."

The question didn't seem to faze Will, "Do you think about sex a lot?"

"I think about one girl in particular," Quinn smirked at the man, raising her perfectly manicured eyebrow, "Your daughter."

Will was subtly caught off guard at his patient's answer, but didn't show any signs of weakness. At least that's what he thought, while Quinn calmly continued on, her voice growing every so huskily, "I touch myself thinking about her, a lot."

"I'm not comfortable with you talking about my daughter, Quinn," Will's protective instincts over Rachel kicking in, acting like a father rather than a professional.

"Oh, come on, Will. Don't you wanna know what I do to her," Quinn pressed Will, "I lay her down, on the bed, and I caress her soft skin, like a pearl, or like a little kitten. She's a virgin. They get wet _so_ easily."

"Do you turn to these thoughts to comfort yourself? In times of stress?"

Quinn slightly furrowed her eyebrows in surprise at how it seemed to connect together, "Actually, yes. I touch myself to make the visions go away; the blood and carnage. I want the thoughts to go away, and you're not helping me."

"Well, we've only been working together for a few weeks now," Will explained.

"Well, you're sexual, right," Quinn grinned and went back to her relaxed position on the couch, "Rachel told me about the affair with the girl in Lima. Not much older than her, she said."

Will decided he didn't want to go any further than what Quinn had revealed in her session. It was bad enough having to hear them now, especially from one of his patients, whom his own daughter told her about, "Our time's up."

Quinn shook her head coldly, her guard starting to come back again, "Bullshit. I don't accept that."

"Our time is up for today, Quinn," Will stated one last time. Quinn took one last glare at Will for today, grabbed her leather bag, and headed out of the house.

When the glass doors closed loudly, Will leaned forward to try to clear his head from what Quinn had brought up. It was a personal matter that didn't need to be discussed with. Period. This was about helping her with her visions and delusions, and helping her get better, not talking about his life back in Ohio.

What didn't help any more than possible was the sound of Will's phone vibrating again. Over and over the sound kept ringing in his head, telling him to answer the call. He took one look at the number and groaned, setting the phone down in frustration. '_You've got to be kidding me_.' How much longer would it take for this person to get the message? If Shelby found out about this, Will's second chance would be thrown right out the window and would be heading straight for 'Divorce City'.

"I thought we had an agreement," Will stood up and dialed the recurring number, "Do I have to get this number changed?"

Only two words were said from the mystery caller. Two, simple words that spoke of infidelity, adultery, and cheating within Will and Shelby's marriage. Two words that would be enough to make Will's face pale in shock and panic. The two words the caller told Will? "I'm pregnant."


	13. Do you believe in the Devil?

Rachel was exhausted. Still dealing with her new house, her father's suspicious infidelities with the new maid—_who was old as hell...why was he going after her, anyway?—_and once again being an outcast, well, sort of, at her new school started to take a small toll on her mental state. Sure, she was the same person when she arrived in Los Angeles, chill and laid back, but something around here seemed off. She wasn't sure what, but something would come up to make her figure out what was going on around this town.

Her American History teacher couldn't have been making things any easier for the songstress during her last class; she was bored out of her mind, and needed something to take her mind off things for a while, something to bring her spirits up, even if it was the size of a speck-of-dust, it would help, nonetheless.

Luck finally seemed to be on her side today. Her phone silently buzzed in the right pocket of her white shorts, a new text being sent from an unknown number.

'_Basement chick, we need to talk, asap,"_ Rachel furrowed her eyebrows at the unusual nickname, then realizing it was Mack. How she managed to get her number was a mystery that would have to be saved for later. She knew what the other girl wanted to talk about, and nothing good would come out of it.

'_Basement chick? Surely you must have a better name to call me than that. And yes, we will need to discuss what happened that day in my basement. Which location would you like us both to meet up at so we can chat," _She sent the text, rolling her eyes at the use of her old speech. Sure, she was more relaxed than before in Ohio, but that still didn't mean it came up every now and then.

'_What's with the long ass speech,' _Rachel scoffed in her head at the girl's language, her old self barely peeking its head out, '_and how bout the skate park at the Beaton?'_

'_It's something I used to do it before I moved here. Do you mean the place at the Beaton, by the way?'_

'_Yep, that's the place. See ya after school today?'_

'_Sure,' _Rachel ended the conversation. She was not looking forward to having this discussion with Mack, especially since Quinn was the main involvement of the whole thing. She took a deep breath as the final bell rang, knowing she would have to get over this sooner or later.

* * *

><p>The Beaton Hotel had been abandoned for a couple of years. So to say that no one had come to use the empty swimming pool as a hangout would be an understatement, especially among the skateboarders around town. The nine-foot deep pool had attracted boarders to use it as a skate park, seeing as how the water was gone since its closure. Lights were posted up everywhere around the pool's edges, which made it a lot easier for everyone to see while they were riding, versus using the windows and dimly lights hanging from the ceilings.<p>

After Rachel snuck inside the back door, with two other skateboarders, she began to look for Mack. It didn't take long, seeing as how she was sitting right next to the pool's ladder with sunglasses, a giant hat over her head, and a large clothed bandaged on her left cheek, obviously covering her scars from the attack.

"Mack," Rachel called out, instantly getting the taller girl's attention. Turning her head around, Mack looked up at the brunette, motioning her to sit down. The two sat in a uncomfortable silence next to each other watching the other kids ride their skateboards around the pool. Some were trying to improve their tricks using the floor and the wooden ramps against the walls.

Mack decided to do something within the quiet between her and Rachel and lit up a cigarette, Rachel watching with a raised eyebrow next to her, "I thought you hated smoking?"

"I've taken it up," the taller girl said weakly, Rachel looking with interest, "I can't sleep. I'm terrified of _everything_. What attacked me was definitely not human."

"It was Quinn-"

"No! You saw that other thing too."

"You know she was trying to freak us both out," Mack shook her head lamely, knowing what Rachel was saying was just an excuse to hide behind her fears, while taking another hit, "What'd you tell your parents?"

"Don't worry. I told them I got attacked by some mangy chihuahua on Melrose that wanted my Chanel. I couldn't tell them I went to your house to snort coke, could I? I could've filed a fake police report, or something."

"How deep are the cuts?"

"Deep. God, I-I just can't stop thinking about that mouth."

"It was a mask. She was trying to terrorize you, you know," Rachel looked up at Mack's hat, her eyes slightly narrowing in confusion, "That hat doesn't look like you."

"It serves a purpose," The girl lifted up the hat to show the reason why, sending chills down Rachel's spine, "Look, my hair is turning white from fear. I didn't think it was possible, but apparently on the Internet, it happens."

Rachel sat stock still for a second. Sure, she expected Quinn to scare the shit out of Mack and have her leave Rachel alone for good, but she never expected the effects of the attack's aftermath, "Do you believe in the devil?"

The singer was caught off guard by the question, "No." _Yes. After that day, who knows._

Mack shivered in fear, whispering, "_I do._ I looked into his eyes."

Rachel gulped and looked at the poor girl with a fraction of widened eyes. Hopefully this was, indeed, just a harmless scare, and that there wasn't anything more to what Quinn had done. She just needed to be frightened off and leave Rachel alone, not be physically and emotionally fearful of her life. She could only pray to God that he would help Mack for what happened, and hopefully that would be the end of that. _Of course not, you moron. You know she meant to scare the living hell out of Mack. But this is just the beginning..._

* * *

><p>Later in the evening, the house was silent. Darkness overtook the rooms of the house, as everyone was in bed, asleep. Rachel was starting to doubt her conclusions before she met up with Mack, and it became apparent in her sleep. Unknowingly a few feet away, at the foot of her bed, stood Quinn, watching the younger girl intently. The blonde could obviously tell from the way Rachel was sleeping that something important was on her mind, <em>besides the fact that the moonlight shining on her face made her look beautiful<em>. What the singer was dreaming about, the rebel didn't know, but it was bound to come out of the girl's mouth sooner or later.

Not a second later, alarms in the house started sounding off loudly, awakening Will and Shelby from their slumber. Will jumped out of the bed, running straight downstairs to investigate, leaving a somewhat distraught Shelby sitting upright in bed, "Check Rachel!"

Will got to the front hallway within a few seconds, wearing only his sweatpants, and pressed the buttons to deactivate the alarm screaming through the house. When he turned his head towards the front door, he noticed it was barely opened, enough space for a mouse or small rodent to get inside. Just as he shut the door, Shelby came running after him, in only her night shirt, with a wooden bat in her hand, "Did someone break in?"

"Go back upstairs," Will took the bat, Shelby saying that she'd call the police. Holding the bat in a vice grip with both hands, Will turned on the lights to find out who was in his house. He turned his head left and right with each step he took, making sure he didn't miss anything. When he got in the kitchen, the door to the basement creaked open, instantly earning his attention.

The man held the bat tighter and tighter the lower he went downstairs, only to hear small giggling invade his eardrums. _Hold on a sec__. Giggling? _He finally reached the floor, only to find Becky smiling from ear to ear, rolling a round object across the basement. The tension in his shoulders visibly relaxed, as he lowered the bat down to the ground, rolling his eyes in frustration when he called, "Go home, Becky. Come on."

Becky knew her fun would have to wait another day. She listened to Will and followed him towards a door leading out of the basement. When Will walked around to see what exactly Becky was having fun with, his eyes saw nothing visible, and went back upstairs, unaware of a red, bouncy ball rolling in the direction where Becky was playing towards the darkness.

"The police are on their way," Shelby spoke, seeing her husband come back up to the bedroom after investigating the intrusion.

"Tell them to go back; it was only Becky," Will came back up, frustrated, "I'm gonna have someone come by and check all of the windows and doors, though. That little freak can get in anywhere-"

"You shouldn't call her that!" Shelby defended the younger girl. Will became surprised at his wife's small outburst, "Are you okay? You're shaking."

The brunette shook her head and closed the door, obviously wanting the conversation to be private. One look on her face made Will realize that something was wrong, "I haven't thrown up in..."

Will furrowed his eyebrows in confusion; first they were talking about the house intruder, and now throwing up? What was going on with Shelbs?

"When I was pregnant with Rachel, I was sick all the time for two months straight. There's something wrong with this baby, I can feel it."

"I'd be worried if something was wrong too, after what you went through with your last pregnancy. Your anxiety level must have been through the roof-"

"Don't shrink me," Shelby bickered. Will came to kneel down in front of his wife, trying to figure out how to make her feel better, whispering, "You know what I feel? That this baby is why we moved here; it's our salvation."

Shelby still didn't feel convinced at Will's reassurance, even when his kiss tried to give her hope. She knew he was trying to help, and he was getting better after the huge fight they had in the living room after moving in, but she desperately wanted to know why she was acting the way she did during this pregnancy. Within the time she had been carrying her new child, she had expected some form of illness to take place. Hell, it did with many other expecting mothers while they were pregnant. Not one woman she had met or heard about being fine for the first few months. Hopefully, while time would go on, she would find answers to what was going on with this baby.


	14. Is it weird living in the Murder House?

_College graduate Sugar Motta was going down the elevator, finally finished with her first, actual job interview with a Human Resources director. _

_During high school and her first couple of years in college, her father had given her everything. She was freely spending his wads of cash on whatever she pleased. That was, until he looked at one of her credit card bills, and found she had overspent his designated limit big time. That was where the line was crossed._

_After her junior year, where she was still undecided about her major, and didn't have any other financial support from him, besides her education, caused him to make an ultimatum. He agreed to continue paying for her tuition—if she got a job, no matter what it was, and paid for her studio apartment, food, rent, and utilities included, herself. _

_At first it was hard. She protested, whined, and, yes, even cried. But then she realized that he was only doing this because he loved her, and wanted her to be prepared for the real world. She soon buckled down and got a few jobs during the last couple of years; a waitress, an assistant to an office secretary, and even a dogwalker if she had any free time available. She did whatever she could, and eventually began to act more like a mature young woman her father always knew she could be, instead of a little college girl who just wanted to have fun, instead of doing the actual work it came with._

* * *

><p>"I'm pulling and pulling, and this Karen Carpenter's, 'Isn't Life the Shit', elevator music keeps playing," Will continued to listen to Sugar's dream that she had been having recently.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Back in the elevator, Sugar was anxiously waiting to get home to walk her neighbor's dogs. 'A couple of rare Sharpeis,' she thought, 'this walk is definitely going to pay off at least a good amount of the rent for this month, thank God.'<em>

_Now, if there was one thing Sugar didn't like on elevators, however, it was the claustrophobia that came upon her every now and then. So when the power turned off on the way down, her panic levels slowly started rising. Her hands went through her hair as she tried to figure out what to do. She pushed some of the buttons of the other floors, the emergency button, and tried banging on the door to see if anyone heard her, but none came to any success._

_With every other idea out the window, Sugar put her last resort into action, in case anything like this ever happened. She got down on her knees and began to open up the elevator doors. She was able to gain nearly a foot open and began climbing out. Her hips wouldn't budge through the opening, forcing half of her body to be out, leaving her bottom half, including her legs, back in the elevator._

_Though her plan had no failures so far, she had underestimated the power of patience. While she was struggling to get out of the elevator, a noise from below rose up through the entire building; the power was coming back on. Hallway lights flickered on again, as did the elevator itself, with the buttons that the young student pushed. A full-fledged look of panic featured on her face, as she looked up. At a quick speed, the ceiling of the elevator came down on Sugar's hips, effectively splitting her in half and killing her in the process, as the elevator continued to go down the floors._

* * *

><p>"Chopped in half, like a freaking Ginsu," Sugar calmly explained, "I'm feelin' around, like, 'What the hell? Where's my legs, man?'"<p>

"It sounds terrifying. How many times have you had this dream?"

"Like ten. I mean, not a lot freaks me out, but this shit's serious," Will nodded his head in understanding, continuing to scribble down notes of his patient, "Like, if I'm with some dude and he touches my belly, I get all squirrelly."

As Will tried to figure out what psychological issues Sugar might have been dealing with before the nightmares started, Sugar asked him an odd question, not pertaining to her session at all, "Is it weird living in the murder house?"

Will scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, not understanding what the young woman was asking at all, "Excuse me? What do you mean the-the crime that took place here?"

When Sugar didn't say anything to his last two questions, he continued, "Were you aware of that before you came to see me?"

"Dude, you're on the Murder House tour."

Thinking she was trying to escape her fears and change the subject, he joked around and continued to assess her, "I see. I had assumed you found me through the Screen Actors Guild insurance list."

"Yeah, yeah, totally," Sugar immediately nodded her head, "Then I got here, and I couldn't believe it. I almost didn't ring the bell. But then I thought, 'This must be my lucky day'."

"So your career, how's that going?"

"Kind of slow," Sugar shrugged her shoulders, "Did the murder happen in here?"

"I don't know, Sugar. I'm more interested in your nightmare. Have you ever suffered from any sexual abuse?"

"Like molested?" Will nodded as his answer to her question, "No."

"It sounds to me like your dream is an expression of some emotional pain you're repressing. Part of you feels...seperate, shut down. You're reaching for it like you reached for your missing legs but...all you find is a bloody stump. What do you think might be shut down in you, Sugar?"

"I don't know. I think I'm just afraid of being cut in half."

* * *

><p>After his session with Sugar, Will decided to give Quinn's mother a call; he needed to protect Rachel and keep her out of Quinn's way. If he had to give out recommendations to the rebel's mother, to stop her from seeing Rachel, then he would do it, as a father first.<p>

"Hello, Mrs. Fabray? It's Will Schuester-Corcoran, Quinn's therapist. Mrs. Fabray, I'm calling because I can't treat your daughter anymore," He spoke pouring himself some coffee, "I'd like to give you the number of another psychiatrist who I think could help her...Because your daughter has crossed a line with my daughter."

"That's so weird," Sugar interrupted his phone call, quickly getting Will's surprised attention.

"I thought you had left."

"I got turned around," The student placed her hands on the kitchen countertop, "How many rooms are in this house?"

"Um, excuse me, uh, one second, Mrs. Fabray," Sugar looked around the kitchen, and grinned when she found a cell phone charging on the counter.

Will politely told the mother on the other line, as he began to escort Sugar out of his house, "This way I prefer my patients to use the front door."

"I'm so tweaked out, you know?"

"It's gonna get easier, Sugar. Staring down your fears, facing them head-on is the best thing you can do. You were brave today."

"Cool," As Sugar started walking towards the front door, exiting the house, Will continued speaking to Quinn's mother, "I'm so sorry. I mean, look, they're teenagers...I understand your concern, I'm just not comfortable continuing treatment in my home."

* * *

><p>Classic jazz music from an antique radio played through through Sue's kitchen, later that evening. She was cracking eggs into a mixing bowl, swaying back and forth in a blue and white-striped track suit, humming to the sounds of the peaceful tunes flowing throughout the room.<p>

One of her dogs scuffled by her legs, another laying comfortably in a small bed, as Becky sat at the kitchen table, reading a CoverGirl magazine. She stopped at one page, with a smiling model wearing a wedding dress, "How come I don't look like these girls?"

"Because you don't; it's just the way you were born, except you were hatched with _other gifts_," Sue smiled at the younger woman.

"Like what?"

"Well, Christ on a stick, I don't know, finger painting or something," The cheerleading coach began pointing over to something she needed, "Get me the ipecac syrup out of the cupboard there, honey, in the brown jar. Thanks, baby."

"Does this make the cupcakes taste good?"

"You can't actually taste it, but it causes violent stomach upsets and, sometimes, internal bleeding. Okay, now spit in it," Sue asked, Becky's face lighting up at the request, as the blonde finished pouring the entire bottle of syrup into the cupcake mix.

* * *

><p>Will decided to go for a late morning jog the next day at the park to try and clear his mind. Each step he took, made the next even harder. He pushed himself as fast as he could go, putting himself more and more towards exhaustion.<p>

What didn't help his run were the distractions running through his head. A few were of Emma, some were of the caller on the other line after his session with Quinn, and then there was when Shelby learned of his infidelities. No matter how hard he tried to rid the demons of his past, they weren't going to be leaving anytime soon.

He stopped for a few moments inside the dark tunnel leading to a large pond, and soon began to weep. He put his body facing one of the walls, one of his palms on the wall, while the other was fisted below his face. He began to cry, quietly, so that no one would be able to hear him sobbing.

Unfortunately for him, there was someone with Will in the tunnel. He was on the opposite side, so that he wouldn't be noticed, until he started to walk over towards the younger man, taking off his hat sarcastically, "People will say, 'We're in love.' Hello, William."

Will was caught off guard by Sandy's sudden appearance. He didn't want the burned man to see him as a weakling for crying in public, "What do you want, Sandy?"

"Well, more than anything I guess, to be on the stage," Will's eyes narrowed, "You know what stopped me? Fear of what my family would say. But now that they're, you know, dead, and I have terminal brain cancer, I should just go for it. Chase that dream."

Will nodded his head in understanding, one or two final tears sliding down his face, "What about you? What dream were you chasing? Or should I say, what dream is chasing you?"

"Leave me alone," Will growled at Sandy.

"It's the house isn't it-"

"Wrong."

"Whatever it is, the house already knows about it, it'll use it against you," Sandy continued, leaving Will taken back.

"Jesus, this isn't about the house! This is about me, what I did! I cheated on my wife," Sandy grinned, as Will continued to emphasize, "Terri-that was her name. She was insisting that I come out to Boston."

"I'm trying very hard not to judge you."

"Me? You murdered your entire family."

"Yes. But I was never unfaithful. You don't have a choice. You're gonna have to save your family. You're gonna have to _lie_."

* * *

><p>Will and Shelby were about to head to sleep. Shelby was in the bathroom washing her face, wearing a gray t-shirt and a pair of black shorts, Will sitting on the storage trunk at the front of the bed, intact with his thoughts. He didn't know how he was going to lie to Shelby, but Sandy was right. He didn't have much of a choice.<p>

"Guess who called me today? Lauren Zises. Remember that heavyset gal I treated two summers ago? Just tried to commit suicide," Will shook his head, instantly getting Shelby's attention, as she began walking to the bedroom, "She's in the hospital; won't talk to anybody. Her parents are begging me to go out there."

"All the way to Boston?"

Will shrugged his shoulders, "Just for a day or two."

"You know what you are, Will Schuester-Corcoran?"

"An idiot?"

"You're a good man," Shelby answered, going back to the bathroom. Will looked up at the ceiling and breathed a sigh of relief, thanking that his little white lie worked and praying that it wouldn't grow any bigger and backfire on him in the future.

* * *

><p>Shelby was washing the dishes the next morning while pouring herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen. She knew what Will was doing was a good deed for that poor girl back in Boston, and that it definitely raised her trust a little bit for him. Hopefully he didn't lie to her, otherwise it would forsee a divorce coming straight in their direction.<p>

The mother soon heard a knock on the door and looked to see who was coming in. She did a double-take after seeing her guest come inside, an evident look of shock on her face, as a plate of two chocolate cupcakes with chocolate icing entered her vision, Sue carrying the delicious "treats".

"Avon calling," Sue sang-song to her, wearing a pink and white-striped track suit, her hair seemingly primped to perfection. _Does this woman own anything besides track suits?_

"Oh, Sue, I'm sorry, but now's not exactly a good time-"

"I just wanted to bring these by, as a little peace offering for Becky disturbing your slumber the other night."

"Thank you."

"I think I'm going to have to start strapping her in at night."

"Um, well, I really appreciate it. I'm not usually a cupcake girl myself but-"

Sue loudly chuckled, "They're not for you! At your age? You might as well just crazy stick of butter to your ass. These are for Rachel."

"Oh, I see the little candy stars," Shelby pointed to the decorations on top of the cupcakes, obviously seeing what Sue meant by that somewhat-_unkind_ gesture.

"Yes, candy stars. I bought them from a wonderful, Mexican market down on Avorado street. I'll even give you the name, just don't go after sundown," Sue shook her head as a fake warning notion.

"Okay, well thank you," Shelby went to take the plate from Sue, but the older woman not seeming to give the desserts to her. She realized something rather important, her face slightly changing with a glint shining in her eye, as she looked down at Shelby's tummy.

The older songstress was starting to get confused with the cheer coach, shaking her head with beginning annoyance, "What?"

"You're with a child. I have the nose of a truffle pic. I could practically smell the odor radiating off of that little angel the minute I walked in the door. Phermones, you know."

Shelby stood there, just not being able to say anything but a simple, "Wow," making her head fill with curiousity about how Sue could tell so easily that she was pregnant. Though it did make some sense; after all her bump was starting to become visible.

"So, is Violet home? I'd like to hand these to her, personally; I'm a sucker for penance and all."

"No, sh-she's not here."

"Oh, well, I'll come back, then," Sue making her way towards the door, taking the cupcakes with her.

"Oh, Sue? I know this is probably a crazy question, but do you smell anything else about the baby?"

"Two sugars and a great deal of half-and-half," Shelby going to make some more coffee for them both, placing one cupcake in front of her, Sue taking a seat at the breakfast bar, "Are you worried about something in particular? And I told you, those are for Rachel."

"She's not going to eat both. We can split it."

Sue watched as Shelby cut one of the cupcakes down the middle, bringing her piece up to her mouth, "Can I ask you a personal question?"

Not saying anything, Shelby continued to ask her question, "If you had known about Becky. before she was born, would you've done something? I mean, when I first met you, you said that if they had the tests back then that you might've-"

"Oh, well, don't think I didn't think about it. Even after she was born, leaving that little bug-eye out in the cold; it's what they do in China. But, a mother, never turns her back on her child. Every one of mine was pure love"

"You have other kids?"

"I have four. I should've stopped after the first. My womb is cursed. My husband was the spitting image of Van Johnson. Hell, you'd think we'd make little cherub children, fat and lively. But, it wasn't meant to be. Our beauty, was an affront to the gods."

"All four of them had Downs?"

"Or some such malady, except for one. She was a model of physical perfection," Sue trying to hold back tears of the painful memories of her past, "She was my gift that I lost to other things."

Wiping away her shed tears, Sue immediately changed the topic, just as Will walked inside, "Your baby's fine. Enough sad talk."

"So, what are we going to do about Becky, Sue?"

"Well, I-"

"Ooh, a cupcake," Sue took the plate away from him, knocking down the sliced morsel, "Not for you."

As in pure coincidence, Emma walked in the kitchen, "Oh, Emma, darling. Put these away somewhere, until little Rachel can have them. The Schuester-Corcorans, here, are offending my largess. And don't forget the crumbs on the table.

Emma and I go way back," Will and Shelby instantly feeling the tension off the two women, "Isn't that right? Why, I even employed her for a time. I hope her dusting has improved."

"Your sense of humor _was,_ and continues to be, a _delight_," Bitter sarcasm dripping off of the maid's tongue.

"Is there anything more wonderful, than the promise of a new child," Will obviously taking note, as Sue exited the house, "And more heartbreaking, when that promise is broken?"

When the door shut, Will subtly shook his head at what Sue said, nor did he really take in what she said to begin with. He then turned to face Emma, as she seemed to look like the young, sultry redhead she once was, years ago, "I'll bring this to the car."

"Thank you," Shelby replied.

"Is everybody crazy," Shelby smiled at her husband's humor, his hands cupping her face as he came up to her, "I wish you could come with me."

"Me too," Will kissed his wife, holding her close, unknowingly aware of the terrorizing horror that was about to unfold upon her and Rachel that very evening.


	15. Let the invasion begin (Part 1)

The house later that evening was quiet. Too quiet for a family like the Schuester-Corcorans, or rather women in said-household. Will had left an hour or two ago for his flight to Boston see Terri and whatever else she needed him for, while Shelby ironically believed he was going to help that poor Lauren girl. Meanwhile, Rachel was upstairs, reading a book assigned from one of her professors, resting up against her headboard, when Shelby knocked on her door.

"I turned it down! What do you want?"

"Can I come in?" Shelby politely asked outside of Rachel's closed door, making the brunette barely roll her eyes and getting off the bed to answer the door herself. When she opened it up, her mother held up a plate of the other cupcake that hadn't been cut.

"Hi. Our kooky neighbor made you cupcakes."

"Huh. A candied golden star, that's clever," Rachel bared a small smile, retreating for her bed to continue reading. Shelby following after her, placing the cupcake on her nightstand to the right of her bed, "Want to watch a movie? I figured since your dad's gone tonight, we could have a little girl's night."

"Yeah, no thanks," Shelby sat down on the edge of the bed, "I thought it might be fun to hang out?"

"I can't. Homework."

"Are you mad at me about something?"

"Why don't you eat it? Since you're apparently eating for two now." Shelby looked truly surprised at her daughter's reaction, "What? You think I don't know? You stopped drinking wine at dinner, and you're gaining weight in your face."

"I was going to tell you tonight."

"You know the statistics when you have a baby over forty."

"Yeah, I do," Shelby half-sarcastically nodded her head, "You want to talk about it?"

"No thanks. I'm good," Shelby began to depart, when Rachel interrupted the short silence, "Having a baby isn't going to keep you and dad together, if that's what you're thinking."

The older brunette was now frustrated with her daughter's antics, waving her arms, "Wow, Rachel, I'm really appreciating your optimism with all of this. Really am. Come on, go ahead and say all your mean things."

Rachel could think of only one thing to say to her mother, something that had been on her mind for a while now, "I think you're weak."

Shelby exasperatedly gave up on Rachel for the night and went back, just as Rachel rose up from her spot on the bed and placed the uneaten cupcake outside her door, closing it as she went back to reading. It was bad enough that her husband had treated her like she was his own patient, herself, sometimes. She didn't need her daughter adding up on her already stressed out plate, especially with a baby on the way.

Reaching for her phone next to the refrigerator, she decided to give Will a call to see how he was doing with Lauren. She really needed some support from him, especially with how to handle Rachel knowing the news about their conceived child and some advice to figure out how to have an actual, meaningful conversation with her daughter that didn't end in low-blow insults every time between each other.

A vibrating cell phone sounded out on a glass table, grabbing the attention of one Will and Terri McClaine. Will picked the device up to find a missed call from Shelby on the phone's ID, his thumb hovering over the name. When Shelby didn't get an answer from her husband, she decided to give up for the night and head back upstairs, putting her phone back on its charger on top of the marble countertop.

Will felt a pang of guilt ignoring his wife's call; he wanted to talk to Shelby and ask what was on her mind, with the news of her pregnancy now up and about, but soon pushed it aside and set the phone back down. After all, he was a guest in Terri's apartment, after she had decided to move out of Ohio and to Boston to start over, and didn't want to appear rude to his host who happened to be casually walking over to the living room with two glasses of Riesling, one for each of them.

"Thank you, Will."

"You got it," The father took his glass of wine, casually holding the sides of the glass before taking a quick sip.

"Just until it's over," Terri assured.

"I understand. It's the least I can do," Will started the conversation, putting the topic in a new and hopefully-distracting direction, "We are on a desert island."

Terri smiled at the other man's sense of humor, as he took another sip, "I'm over us, you know. I mean, what's it say about me—sleeping with a married guy, a teacher? I mean, could I be more text book?"

Will slightly gulped in nervousness, eyes shifting to anywhere but Terri, trying to avoid that kind of talk with her, "But that's not who I want to be anymore."

"You got it."

"I mean, I just can't imagine lying there on that table tomorrow morning...It's just so sad," Terri lamented about her upcoming procedure, "Our baby. It just wasn't meant to be, was it?"

Will nodded in supportive understanding of how hard this would be for the other woman. He had had women make appointments with him back in Ohio to try and have him give them a sense of optimism and hope that things would go better for them after their procedures. In this case, however, he had never met any woman who would do something like this where he was emotionally and mentally supportive for them and physically there with them; so much as actually traveling across the country to keep their state of mind and well-being in check and serenity. For Terri, being the first, she was brave as hell for even considering the option, in his opinion.

The older man then sighed and lifted up his glass sitting on his thigh to speak, "To you, Terri, for handling this with grace and maturity."

The two clinked their glasses and sipped their wines, Will's eyes never leaving Terri's as she looked in a different direction seconds later, "Um, listen…to be clear, I'm gonna sleep on the couch tonight."

"I just need you till it's over, and you go back to see Aunt Vivian, and I go back to personality, theory, and," the younger girl taking a short pause for subtle emphasis, "psychopathology."

Will grinned at her humor, "Not so bad."

Terri nodded to agree when the doorbell rang for their dinner, "Pizza? Yay!"

Will took the sudden opportunity while Terri was out of sight to check on the missed call from Shelby. He really did want to make sure she was alright and that everything was going well back in Los Angeles with her and Rachel. Unfortunately the action went noticed by Terri, who had turned back around for a split second to grab her wallet out of her purse before reaching the door, to discover Will already breaking his promise that he wouldn't check his phone for the rest of the time that he was with the student.

"Are you kidding me?" Her voice laced with traces of anger and mistrust.

"I-I just need to check this—"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I in a time warp? Did I not just two seconds ago hear you say no calls? Give me your phone."

Will stood up to try and reason with a growingly-agitated Terri by telling her a simple, "No." In response, nevertheless, the younger woman began to cry like a small child being refused by a parent to buy them a toy in Walmart.

"C'mon, c'mon, take it easy," Will cautiously stood in front of the woman, lightly holding her so as to not make her even more upset.

"All I ever wanted," Terri begging and crying in the sleeve of Will's jacket, "was for you to love me."

"Look, look," The psychiatrist quickly took out his phone and started pushing a couple of buttons to turn it off, before being placed in the front pocket of Terri's purse, as he caringly held her in his arms to calm her down from her sobbing, "see? No more calls."

Back in L.A., Shelby was watching a classic horror film on TCM with Pavarotti in her bedroom. While she could care less about the film, with it being one of the only things that was watchable on TV at this hour besides anything having to do with either game shows, paid programming, and reality nonsense, the little white puppy seemed more engaged at the program than his owner.

Moments later, as the young pup laid his head down on the very edge of the bed, the doorbell rang, averting her attention from the movie to see who was at her doorstep at this hour. The mother rose up from her bed, watching the film for another couple of seconds before rustling the small dog's head and telling him to stay where he was.

The doorbell rang for a second time when Shelby had reached the entrance to the house, looking through the peephole, "Who is it?"

Looking through the small glass, Shelby discovered a young woman in about her twenties with her back facing her. When the mysterious woman turned around, Shelby was met with a couple trickles of blood falling from the top left side of her forehead.

"Excuse me, ma'am. I don't wanna bother you, but I'm hurt and needing some help."

The older woman, putting her caring and motherly instincts first, replied back, "What happened to you?"

"I'm hurt and needing some help," The woman outside not giving any kind of reason as to what had caused her injuries to Shelby, "Open the door."

"Y-you said that. Can you tell me what happened? How did you get hurt?"

"Can't you see the blood on my face," The girl obviously trying to show that she was hurt and needed Shelby to let her in to help her.

A crackling-buzzing noise broke through the conversation from outside, as the other woman turned her attention to where it was coming from, "He's out here, let me in."

Shelby soon became suspicious of the woman's possible motives for coming to her door, and reached her hand down to turn the lock. The clicking sound was heard by the girl outside who was appeared to be in disbelief, "What kind of woman are you?"

Shelby began to look to her conscious for fast advice and help, as the other woman cried out again, now beginning to bang on the door to be let inside, "He's out there, he's gonna stab me!"

"I-I'm going to get help! I'm going to dial 9-1-1!"

Shelby ran straight for the kitchen to grab her phone and call for an ambulance while looking back every few seconds at the growing suspicion that was rumbling in her gut with each step she took. She looked back towards the kitchen countertop where the phone had always been near the refrigerator.

The only problem was that the phone was now off of the receiver and nowhere to be seen.

Not only that, but the loud and repeating bangs from outside quickly stopped as soon as she reached the kitchen.

If the older brunette didn't think her nerves could ever hit another all-time high from the infidelity incident back in Lima, she was sadly mistaken. Step by step she took towards the door, looking in each room for a couple seconds to make sure there wasn't anyone else inside her house besides her and Rachel.

When she had finally reached the doorway after what seemed like halfway to forever and a day, she was met with the sight of no one being outside through the peephole. The mysterious woman had disappeared. To where she had gone instantly put Shelby on red alert, right as a shrouded figure casually walked past her through one of the hallways near the kitchen.

"Rachel? Rachel! Answer me!"

"I was just about to finish my homework and you keep interrupting me. What's the matter?"

"Where's your phone?"

"In my bag upstairs."

"Go, go, go get it now. Dial 9-1-1," The mother ordered, just as the chimes of the doorbell started back up again, now grabbing the attention of both women on the stairway.

"Who's that?"

"Just go into your room, lock the door, don't come out until I tell you. Now!"

Rachel quickly retreated back up into her room, and turned the handle of the lock for her bedroom door. She hastily reached for the bag sitting atop her bed like she had said and dumped all the contents inside of it onto her blanket. Her phone hadn't come out, so she began to rummage through any of the pockets she remembered possibly putting it into.

What she wasn't aware of, while frantically trying to search for her device, was that someone had not only managed to unlock her door, but the same person was now slowly walking straight for her, wearing a black hoodie and a black and menacing mask.

Unaware of the imminent danger her daughter was about to be placed in, Shelby had grabbed a miniature statue decoration as a hopefully-useful weapon against whatever danger she would be placed in that she prayed would be over soon.

The mother began yelling through the door, all while holding onto her weapon to persuade whatever threat was outside her house would leave her and her daughter alone, "Stop it! I am not letting you into this house! I have called 9-1-1; the police are on their way!"

Just as with Rachel upstairs, a second intruder was now inside the house, heading right for Shelby. He or she had the exact same attire as the other person upstairs, only instead of a black mask was a black cotton mask with holes cut out for the eyes and mouth, sitting underneath the hood of the jacket.

Shelby opened up the peephole to see if there was anyone outside or not. Her view came upon the same girl that had asked her for "help" minutes ago, only to find her with the same black and evil mask as one of the other intruders.

Frightened by the sight, Shelby began to step back to try to protect herself, but was met with the masked intruder right behind her. She screamed as her attacker stepped towards her, her vision then shrouding into nothing but black and darkness as she started to slip into unconsciousness...


End file.
